Blood Lilies
by Fearless Fault
Summary: When Alain Dufont left Muiri's reputation in tatters she wanted to plunge a dagger so deep in his chest that it could never be pulled out again. But when her nerve failed another was called upon to spill blood in her name. She got what she wanted... but not what she bargained for. (May be rated M at a later time. chapters 1-5 have been revised.)
1. Lilies Among Stone

**Warning:** This story is and deals with many creepy things. If you like your fluff sweet and fuzzy then this story probably won't do much for you except give you nightmares. Later chapters may slip into M rated territory but until then it is rated T for violence, sexual implication, subjects that might make some readers squeamish and more violence. Also there will be Dark brotherhood quest-line spoilers in later chapters as well as some for other quest-lines. Oh and before I forget, this is not a Dragonborn centered fic.

**This Chapter Has Been Recently Revised.**

* * *

"Drowning your sorrows I see." Amid the flickering light from the hearth Muiri's face blanched behind the brim of her mug, for no amount of alcohol could mask the shiver of fear that slivered down her spine. Mead sloshed from her forgotten stein as she twisted in her seat towards where the voice had originated only to spill completely as she lurched to her feet. For a voice that was sweeter than moon sugar and just as addictive had broken the silence she'd been enjoying in her room at the Silverblood inn and sent her pulse thumping right into the back of her throat.

"You! I didn't… uh.. yes well, I already told you why." She stammered, the words hitching in throat_. _And who could blame her? For on the bed looking as comfortable as a well fed cat was a black clad figure that certainly hadn't been there when she'd rented the room. There was no doubt in her mind who this was, that stature that was lofty but lithe, the small red hand print embroidered over the left shoulder of his robes and the voluminous hood hiding all but his mouth in shifting shadow. There really wasn't any way she could forget, after all she'd expected to see him again but not like this...

'_How did he get in here without me seeing? Or hearing for that matter? It's not like the doors here are particularly silent.'_ Her mind questioned, each possible answer no more helpful nor likely than the last. Perhaps he'd been waiting there before her? But to what purpose she wondered. _'Why is he back so soon though? surely he didn't finish the contract in only two days.'_ Her mind raced while outwardly she attempted to regain her composure. "So then, is there some problem with the contract? Or did you have more questions for me?" The memory of their last meeting inside the Hag's Cure still fresh in her mind.

"Neither is there a problem nor question to be asked my frozen lily. I'm merely here to collect the agreed upon amount." The shadow of his hood kept the upper half of his face obscured but it didn't mask the cat like grin that spread across his grey features at her surprised expression. "and the bonus as well. Seeing as the Shatter-shields are now entirely daughterless."

"That's impossible! You killed both of them? But you were just here only a few nights ago!" She couldn't help but drop her jaw in disbelief, her feet taking several unconscious steps backwards as if to put as much distance between them as possible. She collided with something clothed, solid and altogether more frightening than the Dunmer on the bed. Seeming on its own accord her body pivoted, bringing her face to face with the scarred and pale face of her ex-lover.

Her gut wrenched, her eyes so wide it was painful yet she couldn't blink, couldn't scream, couldn't think. Stumbling backwards brought her near falling into warm arms that closed around her like a trap swallowing her whole, a gloved hand lightly pressing over her mouth as if to confirm that her life was about to end. Yet no dagger came, no spell to obliterate her from the fingertips clutched over her face. Instead the same tender voice she'd heard before breathed across her the small hairs on her neck, whispering into her ear.

"Now now my pet, calm yourself. You wouldn't want the whole of Markarth to know about our little rendezvous would you? I can't imagine the townspeople would take kindly to you if they knew you were commissioning the dark brotherhood to take revenge you couldn't levy yourself." Her blood turned to ice in her veins as he spoke but gradually her pulse took up a semblance of its normal rhythm as it seemed like he didn't intend to kill her, at least not yet.

"See, that is much better. You really should try enjoying this more Muiri, it's such a shame to see you jump around like some frightened rabbit when you are getting exactly what you asked for." He continued, cautiously removing his hand from her mouth. That caution was unnecessary though, from his tone alone Muiri knew exactly what would happen if she screamed now, especially while his other arm was still encircling her waist.

"You said you completed the contract. How can you say that when here he stands? Are you mad or is this some twisted joke the two of you worked up to torment me?" She hissed, her voice wavering even as she demanded an answer from both of them.

But the assassin merely laughed, his lips close enough to her that she could feel the brush of them across her skin as he did so. the feel of them sent an unconscious shiver through her body, whether that was due to fear or something else was anyone's guess.

"Oh my dear frozen lily," Once more using a nickname that made her cringe. "perhaps you need a closer look at your once beloved." She didn't have time to protest as his arm dragged her closer to the despised form of Alain. Now that she wasn't panicking her mind processed his appearance more completely, the dried blood along the collar of his clothing, the dead stare in his lifeless eyes. It was then that it clicked. Dufont was as dead as she had wished; merely a lifeless thrall bound to the mer behind her. "Now you see it, and that is but one present I've brought for you this evening." He smirked softly, spinning her in his arms so that she was facing a darkened corner of the room.

"Nilsine…." She gasped quietly, recognizing the now deceased woman that faded into view as her former friend. "Is she…?"

"But of course. That is what you asked for wasn't it?"

"Yes…. But why did you raise their corpses?" Her brow was furrowed in confusion and silent glee; it was exhilarating to see the two people she'd desired dead standing lifeless before her, condemned to be puppets even after their lives had been ripped away, never mind how he'd managed to conceal them from her mere moments earlier when she had thought herself alone...

"Does it matter? You didn't seem interested in what would happen after they died…" His grip on her loosened as he walked over to grasp Nilsine's cold jaw, pulling it to the side as if to show Muiri the ragged gash that marred the flesh at her throat. Muiri cast her gaze quickly to the side, her arm coming up to rub nervously at the other.

"No, it doesn't matter. Your payment's on the table. And this is the bonus for killing Nilsine." She explained coldly, oddly less at ease now that he had let go of her. She gestured towards her coin pouch near her upturned stein as she worked a weather worn ring that had been once given to her by an optimistic suitor off her finger. Of course that had all been prior to the death of Friga and the cursed meeting of Alain. She sat it down as well on the table before moving back towards the center of the room as it was the only place that wasn't occupied by either zombie or assassin.

"Oh don't look so sour, I merely tease. You see I raised them both for a very specific purpose." He said with what sounded like an edge of seduction lacing his words, the payment for now being left as it was.

He held out his hand to her, beckoning her closer as the corpse next to him remained in the position he'd moved it to unblinkingly. Muiri was reluctant to accept his offered hand, still unable to see his eyes or the majority of his face in order to somehow decipher his intent from his expression. However whatever he had planned was likely less terrifying than what might happen should she anger him by refusing; so with a deep breath she reached for his gloved hand.

"You see, it was disappointing to hear that you couldn't find the nerve to kill them both yourself. After all you had the bravado to perform the black sacrament and prior to that mixing that poison specifically for the job. Thank you for that by the way, lotus extract does add such a poetic touch to things don't you agree? No? well no matter, as I was saying; so why not the murder itself? And I thought to myself _'Perhaps it is not nerve she lacks but merely that she is in need of practice or perhaps instruction'_. So I decided that I'd present you the chance to practice, to fulfill your deep desire to kill these two with your own hands." His smile persisted even as her expression became frightened once more.

From inside his robes he produced a finely crafted dagger, its edge wicked and glowing faintly red in the dim room. To her he offered the hilt, waiting casually for her as if he was merely handing her a butter knife for her bread.

"You want me to what? But… they're already dead! What point would it serve now?" She was astounded, her mind reeling with the oddness of the situation. Wistfully she even regretted contacting the dark brotherhood in the first place, seeing as it was turning into a far more dangerous endeavor than she'd ever dreamt it would.

"True they are dead, and it won't be quite as satisfying as it would have been if you had simply killed them yourself. However…. Are you honestly going to tell me there is no part of you that still wishes to plunge a dagger into Alain's heart? Or to stab the woman who betrayed your friendship in the back?" He asked her, dagger hilt still offered. "You should have heard them both… the things they uttered about you before they died…"

His words made her pause, her thin brows knitting together as her thoughts swam insider her head. At first she wanted to yell at him, at his madness and exclaim that she wanted nothing to do with it anymore… but she stopped herself as a tiny thought slithered inside her head. '_What would it matter if I stabbed them now? They're just corpses… there's nothing wrong or illegal about stabbing corpses…'_ it whispered silently to her and another cold shiver slipped down her spine. It was true, even if the guards where to bust in now they could both deny knowing where the zombies had come from. She could even claim she was defending herself from them, after all there was no way to tell who had raised them from the grave.

The warm metal of the dagger's hilt felt calming in her hands even if she hadn't consciously realised she'd reached for it. It was as if time had slowed for the budding alchemist, she took the dagger from him and turned to face Alain once more as a new sensation flooded her senses and tinged her vision a dull red. It boiled and seethed from somewhere deep in her chest, fed by the countless night she had spent in this very tavern pitying herself, by each bitter word the shatter-shield's had spit in her direction. It was wrath pure and simple.

Her arm came up; swinging blinding as she tried to drive the dagger's tip home. But as the assassin had pointed out she lacked the skill needed to wield a blade, and no amount of hatred would give her that skill. The blade clattered noisily to the stone floor, having veered off course as it collided with Alain's shoulder. She cursed, her eyes bleary with searing tears as she disregarded the fallen weapon and instead pounded at Alain's cold chest with her bare hands.

The assassin watched in silence, it wasn't till she had released her anger fully and was merely sobbing that he moved to retrieve his discarded blade. But rather than sheath it he held it out to her once more without a word. Muiri mirrored his silence as she fought to quiet her weeping and accepted the weapon.

Again she approached the body of her ex-lover, this time with cold calculation only edged with her hatred. Without a sound she plunged it into Alain's yielding flesh, and when it would sink no longer she pulled it back out and struck again, and again. Till the chest that she had once caressed was unrecognizable from being butchered so. There was little of his blood left to spill, but her sleeves were covered in a spattering of drops none the less; her hands coated in the sticky black ichor that dribbled from the wounds she'd inflicted.

"See? Isn't that better? More satisfying to appease your desire with your own hands?" That soft voice once more questioned her, but her mind had begun to numb in the wake of her anger and she had no words with which to answer him; merely staring blankly at his partially concealed face. "So, tell me my frozen lily, are you satisfied? Or does that passion for revenge still burn hm? After all you still have one more guest." He reminded her, gesturing elegantly to Nilsine in the corner.

Muiri's arms felt heavy, her body drained, but the more she looked at Nilsine's face the more the memories started to pour into her head.

_"Traitor!"_

_" Thief!"_

_" How dare you show your face here?! If I see your accursed face in this city again I'll rend it from your body completely!"_

How they had cursed at her, her pleas and explanations falling on deaf ears. How she despised their cruelness, could they not for a moment consider that she might be innocent? No, they had thought themselves above her. They had cast her out without a single thought, like one would trash onto the street.

Once more she swung the blade, striking across the unmarked skin of her victim's face, gouging an ugly furrow from eye to jawline. It wouldn't have been enough to kill Nilsine had she still been alive, but it ruined her once pleasing face. Muiri moved almost mechanically, forcing the zombie down onto its knees with the heel of her foot against its now exposed back. Down along Nilsine's spine went the blade, slicing through bones as if they were nothing. And she continued hacking away with renewed fury till the back of her victim was a mess of blackened blood and white bone peeking through the torn flesh and rent cloth. Muiri relished the chance, cutting each of her own frustrations out on the unmoving form beneath her.

When she had finished and her mind was once more catching up with the reality around her she let the blade fall from her tired fingertips, her eyes staring at her own gore splattered hands.

"And then the maid; hunger sated and drained from her own wishes looked down upon the garden of her actions. To see the fruits of her labor laid bare before her, the fallen and damned but blooms at her feet." The shrouded mer said cryptically, stepping over the remains of his deceased thralls with ease despite the considerable mess they were now in. He handed her a cloth for her hands before heading over to the table to retrieve his payment. Muiri cleaned her hands off without thinking, her clothing ruined and her strength sapped out of her by her relinquished anger. She watched as he did moved, wondering if he planned to leave her then with two butchered corpses and to what purpose he had done this for her.

"So what happens now? Do we both just pretend we never met and part ways?" She wasn't sure why she asked but she couldn't hold the words back as her nerves; raw from the entire ordeal and emotional turbulence, once more became on edge. He seemed unaffected by her question, as if the answer was obvious and went without saying as he picked his weapon up from where she'd dropped it moments before. "Well at least tell me your name then." She pleaded hurriedly as he headed for the door.

At those words he paused, his hand on the handle as if caught for a moment in contemplation. The silence stretched out between them, flowing around Muiri and threatening to swallow her whole. After what seemed like ages and to her surprise he turned around, leaning back against the door as his arms came to rest folded over his chest.

"And why is it you wish to know? What do you hope to gain should you have that information?" He asked blankly, she had expected suspicion but found none in his tone.

"I… uh.. I wish to know because…" She trailed off still stuttering, not even sure herself why she wanted to know his name, after all it's not like she'd be able to tell anyone it; surely if she'd did she'd find a dagger in her throat while she slept. Yet for some reason she couldn't just let him leave without knowing at least something about him. "I want to know because… because you've done more for me than anyone else ever has and I would thank you properly. You gave me not only what I asked for but allowed me to taste revenge for myself, I'll never forget your voice but I'd also like to know your name so that I may never forget it either…. and" she paused, trying to conjure up the nerve to say what was running through her mind. "and what my champion looks like as well."

His lips pulled into a malicious grin and Muiri felt her pulse jump into her throat, fearing she'd pushed him too far and that she had unwittingly angered him with her demands for his name and to see what was under the hood. Each footstep he took closer to her made her shake more, scarcely able to breathe at all as he closed the distance between them.

"Are you in the habit of interrogating murderers? It's a frighteningly dangerous hobby you know." His voice as always eerily soft as he spoke. And once more he reached for her; locking her in an embrace like a lover would. But where one would expect warmth and tenderness to be there was none; His body now cold, his touch like death itself along her jaw as he forced her head slowly up to look at him. She dared not resist or struggle, as it would likely only quicken her demise. Still clutching her to him he let his hood fall away from his face, revealing sharp elven features, startling green eyes and smooth grey skin marred only by a single tattoo along the side of his face.

"Well? Does my appearance match what you expected?" He asked, towering over her with sheer height difference alone. She shook her head, had she not been terrified and trembling she would have thought him handsome, the kind of mer she would have flirted with in the tavern even with the blood red color of his hair and the exotic look of his face. But merely inches from her face with those unrelenting eyes peering down at her she found herself without breath to speak.

"Ah I see, well perhaps that is for the better; my work would be rather difficult were everyone to think me an assassin from sheer looks alone. Now, as for your original request…." He continued, doing something that was so beyond what she'd expect that it obliterated every thought in her mind at that moment. It took her moments after the fact to realise he'd leaned forward and firmly pressed his cold lips against hers, a kiss that ended with her bottom lip bloodied as his unnaturally sharp canines pricked it. He'd whispered his name afterwards, and released her from his monstrous hold, slipping out of the door without a sound.

"Thank you Malatu…." She murmured numbly as the name registered in her mind long after he'd already left.

* * *

It was some time later when she'd had fully come to terms with what seemed like the most nightmarish dream that it occurred to her that she was still in an inn room with two corpses, both of which were connected to her. But even as she looked over their hacked at forms they began to disintegrate in to ashes, leaving nothing to mark the event beyond her now throbbing bottom lip and her own blood stained clothes.


	2. Dragon's Tongue

**This Chapter Has Been Recently Revised.**

* * *

_She tried to speak but his lips would not let her, robbing her of her breath as they greedily pressed over her mouth. It was as if he'd become the vessel of avarice and the taste of her was the only currency that could satisfy him. Her top was in tatters, fistfuls of it tangled around his fingertips as he drew her closer against him... forcing their bodies together in a dance of lust. His own shirt had been tossed away ages ago, set adrift in the sea of lilies in which they lay. She could see his chest rise and fall above her, the grey flesh smooth and supple under her hands. As she dug her nails in dragging down his slender torso and leaving dark furrows in the wake of her finger tips she heard him make a small noise in his throat. _

_It sounded primal, eager, hungry… his hands became silk vices upon her flesh, sliding ever lower as his mouth covered the bend of her neck making her gasp and writhe. Teeth like daggers nipped at the pulse there washing her skin with the tingle of adrenaline. The sweet intoxication of pleasure mixed with the bitter tension of danger till the world swam before her eyes._

_Her hands were in his hair, pulling it from its ponytail until it spilled like a crimson curtain around them. The texture of it was like satin dyed the color of fresh blood and…._

"MUIRI! You stupid girl you've let it boil over!" Just like that her fantasy ended and the real world set back in. Bothela looked over the ruined potion with castigating mumblings punctuating her vocalized thoughts. "That was my entire stock of dragon's tongue no less and just look at the mess you've made of this pestle!"

Muiri's shoulders slumped under the weight of her mentor's scathing remarks, knowing full well no apology would soothe the old woman's ire. Not that she didn't try anyway… "I'm sorry I don't know what happened, one minute I was adding the butterfly wings and the next it was overflowing…"

"Don't insult my intelligence with your excuses girl. You and I both know that you had your head in the clouds instead of paying attention to the temperature. You've been nothing but distracted for the last two weeks!" Bothela admonished further, taking a wet cloth and going to work on the pestle Muiri had knocked over when coming out of her day dream. It was a sticky mess, the half burnt remnants of the fortify bartering potion caked on like sickly green glue. When Muiri tried to take it from her to make up for making the mess in the first place Bothela shooed her away with a snap of her rag. "Oh no you don't, you're going to go get more dragon's tongue until you have completely replaced the amount you wasted."

"But they don't grow outside of Eastmarch!"

"Use your head girl, Zaria over at Grave Concoctions in Falkreath should have some for sale."

"But that's going to cost me a whole month's wages!" Muiri had been apologetic before, now she just folded her arms over her potion stained dress and sulked.

"Well unless you want to walk all the way to Eastmarch I suggest you bring your coin purse with you. Either way don't come back until you have 'em."

Muiri collected her things in a huff, hastily throwing a cloak over her shoulders and belting a dagger around her waist as she headed for the door, closing it unnecessarily rough behind her. Not even bothering to change her clothes before heading out, after all what was the point if she was going to be spending a good chunk of her day on the road? The dust alone would be hell, and that was only if it wasn't raining as it often was around the gloomy little hold.

As her apprentice left Bothela just shook her head of white hair, with any luck the road would clear the girl's head some. She didn't know what had gotten into the younger woman as of late but ever since she'd returned from a night of drinking with her clothes a mess and her lip bloodied… something had been decidedly off about her behavior. It wasn't just the endless day dreaming, Muiri had never been one known for her focus after all and especially not so after she'd taken to spending most nights at the bottom of a bottle. And while Bothela had her suspicions about the cause seeing as most of her apprentice's problems normally began and ended with the rougher sex there was something more… something unnatural about the Breton lass' behavior.

* * *

_'That deplorable old hag.'_ Muiri was seething as she pushed Markarth's large bronze gates open, the grating squeak of their hinges protesting under their immense weight. _'Making me spend my own gold to buy her supplies. This is bordering on slavery for Zenithar's sake!'_ The carriage driver gave her a bemused look as she approached looking for all the world like a miniature storm. Muiri didn't care if he stared, as long as he could take her to Falkreath she would deal with it.

"How much is it for your services?" She didn't even want to consider how much this was going to set her back money wise. She'd already spent the majority of her money taking care of her '_little problem'_, buying passage to Falkreath on top of buying Bothela's ingredients was going to bleed her dry she just knew it. _'And it's not like I meant for that potion to go wrong… I just… got distracted is all.' _She thought bitterly, more irritated by the fact that the old woman had ruined a perfectly good daydream than she honestly wanted to admit.

"That depends on where you're headed." Was the driver's slow response, he and his horse both looking as if the only thing they did quickly was drink.

"Falkreath."

"Fifty septims will get you there but you'll be on your own if you mean to return. Aint no carriages stationed in that town."

_'FIFTY SEPTIMS?!'_ By the eight, she really was going to be broke after this. "Surely you can give a girl a discount." Her tone was much more friendly now, a façade of a smile on her face. "Especially one whose a tad down on her luck?"

"No can do lass. It's fifty septims if you want a ride. Otherwise you'd best move along."

Muiri felt her cheeks burn as furiously she dug out her coin purse from her pocket, all but pelting the stubborn Nord with the coins as she paid her fare and then bristled off to the back of the cart. The driver said nothing, having dealt with more than a few hot tempered women in his day and knowing better than to tempt the harpy glaring at him from the back of his cart. He just gave the reins a flick and steadied himself as the rickety wheels began to roll forward. Normally he tried to make small talk with his fares just to pass the time but as Muiri sat practically growling and muttering under her breath after each divot or rock they rode over he thought better of it. They both were in for a very very long ride to Falkreath.

* * *

By the time the cushion-less carriage came shuddering to a halt at the gates of Falkreath Muiri was tired, hungry and unbelievably sore. All she wanted was a hot meal and a warm bed to fall into. _'I swear, one more hour in that accursed cart and I would have shaken apart completely,'_ Muiri groaned mentally, trying to stretch her stiff limbs.

She might have to walk back to Markarth later but at least she wouldn't spend the journey being jostled around and ignored by a rude old man who couldn't even be bothered to help her out of the back of his cart. She was a lady after all and should be treated as such but some people didn't even have the decency to acknowledge that fact. With the surrounding pine trees filtering the late afternoon sun into a twilight-esque glow Muiri took to the streets of the quiet town. And it didn't take her long to locate the apothecary Bothela had spoken of.

"Let me know if you need help with something." Zaria didn't look up initially from her alembic as the chime over her door sounded merrily. The vial in her hand held dead steady as she poured the two mixtures together with ease born of experience. The potion chirped like a lark once before turning from a purplish blue to a golden yellow. Peering through her results at her customer Zaria smiled happily, not only at the seemingly successful experiment but also at the familiar face. "Ah Muiri it's been a while, I hope life has been treating you kindly."

"It's been… strange if I'm honest." Muiri answered as she shut the door to the small shop behind her. The air she'd let in sent smoke and incense swirling in hazy spirals while she stepped further inside and came to rest her elbows on the shop's counter. "What about you? Anything new in Falkreath?" Muiri wasn't one to miss an opportunity to gossip, especially if the topics were juicy.

"Not that I can think of, things are as dead as they always are… no pun intended. So did you need something or just stopping by for a visit?" Zaria walked behind her counter once more, still scrutinizing her latest alchemic endeavor. It wasn't often that the Breton came to see her, these trips normally a punishment or errand for Bothela back at the Hag's Cure.

"Business as usual, you know me… not allowed outside the city unless my slaver needs me to fetch something… old crone has me replacing her stock of Dragon's tongue with my own wages no less!" Just mentioning it again made her bristle, as if everything from the ruined potion to the teeth grinding carriage ride had been somehow engineered by the old woman to make her miserable. As if she even needed more reason to be miserable.

"It can't be that bad. You make it sound as if you're some princess trapped in a tower by a dragon. Surely if she treats you that badly you could leave… make your own way in the world and all that." Zaria countered as she began the process of bottling the potion in her hands, and setting a label for it. Only problem was she wasn't quite sure what it did yet. She knew what it ought to do but reality seldom did what she thought it ought to. So while she figured that bit out she began filling out Muiri's order, measuring the fragile blooms out and weighing them before wrapping them up in a bit of burlap.

"Don't be ridiculous, I've always lived in Markarth. Where would I go? And besides, Skyrim's too dangerous to go wandering around in these day's. Which reminds me how much do I owe you? I want to get back on the road before it starts getting dark."

"twenty septims should do it. Why not stay a night at the inn if you don't want to be on the roads at night?"

"Can't, don't have the coin for it… speaking of… I don't suppose I could pay you half now and then half another day? I'm really short of gold at the moment." Muiri grumbled, poking her finger around her coin purse double checking the sparse coins. She really really did not want to have to walk to Eastmarch just for a bunch of damn flowers.

Zaria's expression was sympathetic, she might have found Muiri to be trying at times, particularly the girl's childish attitude towards pulling her own weight. But she still felt a pang of pity for her none the less. "I'll tell you what, you help me test this new potion of mine and I'll give you a discount on the flowers. Sound fair?"

Muiri didn't like the idea of swallowing a potion without knowing what had gone into its making and she especially didn't like drinking something when neither she nor its brewer knew its effects. However, the prospect of returning empty handed or walking to the other side of Skyrim were even less appealing prospects so she agreed to Zaria's bargain. She up ended her purse on the counter watching the remains of her gold clatter noisily on top and then downed the portion of potion Zaria handed her.

"So does anything feel different?" Zaria questioned once Muiri had set the glass back down.

"No nothing yet… what was it supposed to do?"

"It's supposed to make the consumer sing like a lark. It was a request job from the bard's college but I'm not sure it worked… don't suppose you'd sing a few notes for me? Just to test if it did or not."

Muiri felt her face flush, whether this was because the prospect of singing in front of another embarrassed her greatly or if the potion was doing things to her head she wasn't sure. "Uh… sure.." She stammered, trying to think of what to sing. Finally she settled on a lullaby her ma used to sing to her when she was a babe. "She's like the swallow that flies on high, she's like the river that never runs dry. She's like the sun beaming on the far shore, I love my love but love is no more..." Zaria's pained frown made her drop off abruptly. Muttering an apology and an excuse of being out of practice.

"Don't worry about it, at least I know the potion failed. Well you best be off then if… Muiri? Muiri are you alright you look a little…"

Zaria never got to finish her thought as Muiri stumbled backwards and then eventually fell to the floor. When the worried Redguard ran over fearing for the worse she found the potion had only knocked Muiri unconscious. And while that was a relief it wasn't exactly helpful as she now had a young woman snoozing fitfully on the floor of her store. She gave the girl's cheek a pat, trying to wake Muiri up but it proved to be a fruitless endeavor. Muiri just curled up in a ball and snored softly regardless of what Zaria did to try and roust her.

"Just perfect." Zaria cursed as she gave up and instead set about making an antidote for her newly discovered sleeping potion.

* * *

An few hours later Muiri found herself trudging through the gates of Falkreath with her parcel of Dragon's tongue tucked under her arm. The sun had set over an hour ago and all the creatures of a nocturnal nature were hooting and chittering in the darkness around her as if to drive home the point that she was doing something reckless. But what choice did she have? She had no money for a room at the inn and the only person she knew in Falkreath was Zaria who had fed her not one but TWO experimental potions in less than a day.

No, she would simply be careful and stick to the road even if it was unbelievably dark out. She searched the sky for Masser and Secunda but neither moon nor their accompanying stars were visible. '_probably just the trees blocking the light. It'll be brighter once I'm out of these woods.'_ She tried to reassure herself, but the knot in her stomach wouldn't undo itself. And as Muiri's eyes strained to see ahead of her she was soon alerted as to why that was.

Up ahead on the road something had moved, she couldn't see it well but she was sure she'd seen a flash of white preceding the sound of growling that made the hair on her arms stand on end. _'Wolves… just what I did not need.' _Her mind cursed as she nervously tugged her blade from her belt, her knuckles turning white with how hard she gripped its iron hilt. But as the thing drew closer… or rather group of things as there now appeared to be more than one shape coming down the dirt road, she corrected her earlier assumption. It wasn't wolves that were coming towards her, but a group of men with dogs growling and baying beneath the hooves of their horses.

Muiri had only a few moments to duck off the side of the road before the 'hunting' party caught sight of her. She might not know who they were but one didn't have to be an alchemist to know that a lone woman on a road at night amidst a group of worked up and likely sloshed men was not a good mix. Muiri scrambled as fast as she could over moss covered rock and log alike. Making her way down a steep incline with all manner of bramble and thorns scratching up her arms.

The sting of those cuts made her hiss between gritted teeth, but she didn't dare call out least the men on the road hear her. She was fumbling in the dark though so it wasn't of any great surprise when she misplaced her step and lost her footing, falling with a yelp seven or so feet off of a ledge that jutted out of the incline. She had expected pain when she hit the ground, and to be sure there was some of that… however she hadn't been expecting to land on top of someone else and end up in a tangle of limbs. Above her she could hear the men call to one another, one of them having heard her startled cry and calling to his mates to check it out.

Muiri's stomach tried to flee her body completely when the sound of jingling stirrups and thrown reins slapping saddles sliced through the still night air. And she was all for running away with it, trying to claw her way to her feet without a second thought for who she had landed on. She even managed to stand up and take those first few steps towards fleeing into the underbrush and hopefully back to Falkreath. But those first few steps were as far as she got as a pair of strong arms lifted her clean off the ground and pulled her back into what looked like the mouth of a cave. She would have screamed but her assailant's hand was clamped over her mouth, stifling any protests she might have had. So with the option for screaming taken away she did the only other thing that came to mind… She thrashed like a sabre cat caught in a bear trap. Her fists got in a blow or two before the soft trill of metal being unsheathed and the unpleasant bite of a blade against her throat made her body stiffen like a board in her captor's arms.

"Hit me again or struggle in anyway and I won't hesitate to slice your throat open like a ripe peach. Do you understand?" The harsh whisper made her shudder but Muiri nodded all the same. She didn't have to be told twice when sharp pointy things where involved. "Good, now keep quiet." She considered nodding again but both her's and the man… for the voice was most certainly male… behind her 's attention was draw elsewhere due to the noise of splashing echoing just off to their left.

"There's some kind of cave or sumthin' down here. You want us to check it out boss?" It was one of the men Muiri had seen on the road earlier, he and a few of his group had made their way down the incline and were holding torches aloft to better investigate what drew them off the road in the first place. Over her shoulder she heard her captor curse, pulling her back farther until both of them were pressed against some type of wall and the shadows concealed them almost completely.

"Don't go in it until we know what we're dealin' with. Don't want to end up like old Hrogiv do you?" Another voice broke in, probably from their leader as more men joined the first few. "See anythin' else?"

"Nope doesn't look like there's anythin' else that could have made that noise ya heard." Answered the first as the light of the torches drew just a tad closer to where they were hiding. Muiri crushed as she was to the body behind her didn't know which outcome she wanted. For the men she'd only just run from to find her and possibly free her from whoever was pressing their blade into her throat or for them to go away so she only had to bargain with one aggressor and not seven. She of course did not get a choice in the matter.

"Fugite stulti, animas mortuorum, volebat reddere rationem. Noli metuere, et fugit." Her captor whispered a soft green glow enveloping his hand as it covered Muiri's mouth. What happened afterwards… well she didn't know how to explain it.

The world around them took on a menacing flavor. The shadows deepened, transforming into horrid gaping mouths that shifted and roiled from their places as if possessed. The stale air stirred beneath the wings of a harsh wind that howled over head with the voice of a thousand tormented souls. It stank of vile things, things that slithered in the dark and fed on the dead. The entire scene was enough to make a noble man's courage crumble and these were not noble men who dropped their torches immediately and fled shrieking into the night. Muiri herself was so gripped with fear at the horror dancing in her eyes that she actually ignored the blade against her throat and turned in her captor's arms clinging to his thin body while burying her face into his shoulder... begging for the monsters to go away.

He was still for a moment, surprised at the woman clinging to his robes like they had suddenly become the anchor of her world. and in a way they had. Anything solid and non-threatening to block out the imagined monsters in the clearing beyond would have sufficed. But this was a spell, not the realm of Vermina come to Skyrim. And like most spells it faded after a while once its task was complete, the blustering men who'd come a tad too close to discovering the black door and what lay beyond it were nowhere to be seen.

Once he was sure they were gone he stood, dragging Muiri roughly to her feet as he did so. In the darkness she couldn't see his face but he could see hers and the recognition was immediate for him. Though that didn't alleviate his confusion at what was going on in any way. Still something had to be done and there wasn't much time to do it. The last thing Muiri remembered were unnaturally glowing eyes, fixed on her own, willing her to sleep, lulling her there with hypnotizing green flames. And then the blackness of the night became absolute for the young Breton woman.


	3. Little Red

**This Chapter Has Been Recently Revised.**

* * *

_A vaulted ceiling spiraled towards the heavens above her, painted in images she couldn't quite understand. Around her people danced to a silent rhythm. Their faces coyly hidden by gilded masks held in every gloved hand as all manner of skirts and fur lined boots cavorted over polished black floors. She swam in a sea of color and fine fabrics reflected in floor length mirrors that lined the chamber's wall. These watchful glass sentries creating illusion upon illusion on an already impossibly large room. Patterns she didn't recognize adorned every other surface, from the place she stood all the way up to a pair of heavy wood doors that bore the likeness of goddesses embracing._

_As soon as she noticed those doors so did everyone else in the room. Each masked visage turning expectantly towards them. As if on cue they swung forward, a rolling mist seeping into the room's light from the darkness beyond. Mist-like fingers of the grave flowed around the room until every inch of the floor was covered in it… save a small circle in which she stood. She took a step backwards, unwilling to let the mist touch the ragged hem of her dress fearing what she saw at every turn and yet never knowing why._

_"What is the matter, my frozen lily? Are you afraid?" a familiar voice whispered along her skin, so terribly close… so heart breaking-ly out of reach. She turned on her heel, her fear ebbing like a finicky tide beneath the pull of a cruel moon. Before her that familiar shadow stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, like a vision or a memory although he was neither. A silver tunic clung to his lithe frame only loosening at the elbows as the fabric formed billowing sleeves. Beneath it black and equally tight fitting breeches slid down into finely made black boots adorned with more silver. And while she found the attire breathtaking, it was not what drew her gaze like a frightened moth to a cold flame. For on his face framed by his crimson hair as it hung loose to his shoulders, was a white mask carved in the likeness of death itself. It only covered half of his face, leaving his smirking lips exposed and yet so untouchable._

_"Yes…" she admitted, unwilling to meet his eyes as her hands wrung themselves amid the dirty skirts of her plain dress. She was out of place amid this dream of finery and riches, she could feel the other dancers staring at her in silent judgment… the mirrors reflecting every angle of her inadequacies with harsh apathy._

_"Afraid of what my pet?" he asked again, circling her slowly like a wolf might its prey._

_"Of this place, of you… of them…" she murmured as the brush of his fingertips over her jawline made her tremble._

_"Why are you afraid of them my pet?"_

_"They're staring at me…"_

_"So? What does it matter if they stare? Come, dance with me." His hand graced over her shoulder, trailing along her arm until her fingers were trapped in his and he could raise them to his lips._

_"But I'm not dressed for this," she stammered, fighting the blush that threatened to spill over her face as his other hand smoothed over her small waist._

_"But aren't you? See for yourself," came the knowing response as he turned to the nearest mirror and gestured for her to do the same. He was right and she couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing. Where once a worn cotton dress had hung ill-fitted to her body a gown fit for a queen now flowed in shades of deepest sapphire. It wrapped around the curves of her body enhancing what little had been there before making her as beautiful as Dibella herself._

_When finally she tore her gaze from her own reflection and looked back at the mer before her she found him to be smiling though there was no warmth to it. He drew her across the obsidian floor once more, his steps setting the tempo of a slow waltz as music that had not been there before began to filter through the air. She was nervous, confused and unsure of herself with each twirl through the knee high mist that they made. Around them no one else moved, a hundred carved faces staring forward ominously as she tried to keep up with her unrelenting partner and the music played on. _

_"They're staring at us," she whispered with her hand nervously clutched over his shoulder as they continued the swaying dance._

_"Who is staring my pet?"_

_Her expression contorted once more into one of confusion as she waved her hand to gesture to the crowd around them. "They are."_

_"But there is no one here my pet. Just you, myself and the moons." The moment he said it the room and its occupants dissolved before her eyes. Until only they remained, gliding in circles among the mist beneath the light of the waning moons._

_"How…?"_

_He laughed then, silken lips alighting on hers for but a moment as his arm crushed her against him._

_"Muiri, it's only a dream. Surely you can let yourself enjoy your own fantasy without questioning it endlessly."_

* * *

Muiri's eyelids cracked open blearily and then immediately squeezed shut again. The part of her head that wasn't pounding like a drum cursing the brightness of where ever she was as vehemently as she could while still being befuddled. Much more gradually and with a hand providing shade for her eyes she tried again. Eventually the familiar sight of her bedroom and Bothela's wrinkled face studying her closely came into view.

Seeing that her apprentice was alright… or would at least live, Bothela breathed a sigh of relief and straightened from the chair she'd been sitting in for hours while waiting for the girl to come to. "Oh good, gave me quite a scare you did. What in Mara's name happened to you out there?"

Muiri didn't answer, being just as baffled as the old woman was. She vaguely remembered being scared out of her wits and something she wanted desperately to remember… but nothing was coming to mind.

"I'm not sure… I'm not even sure how I got back here, the last thing I remember was leaving Zaria's after buying the Dragon's Tongue… " It dawned on her that said blooms appeared to be nowhere in sight. "Ah Oblivion take it I lost the Dragon's Tongue!" This simple problem suddenly being of greater concern than blacking out and not remembering the night before. Probably because of the hurdles she'd had to go through just to get them.

Bothela hunched as she was with age waved the girl's worry off with a wrinkled hand, shuffling stiffly over to one of the room's cluttered shelves. "N'ver you worry about those, they made it in better shape then you did. Though I'd love to hear the cause behind some strapping young lad banging on my door at the wee hours of the morning carrying those flowers and you like his blushing bride home. I thought you'd gone and learned your lesson where men are concerned after that Dufont scoundrel."

"Wait someone carried me home? What did he look like?" In her chest Muiri noticed her heart's quickened pace although she didn't know why it was so determined to beat its way out of her body.

Bothela's lips pressed into a thin line, the creases of her face deepening as Muiri's reaction made her reconsider whether or not to answer the question she'd been asked. Particularly that pleading tone the girl had. But there was nothing for it, she knew that if she didn't answer Muiri would give her no peace, for a woman who was at all other times indecisive almost to a fault Muiri could be worse than a Daedric hound when it came to getting questions answered.

"He was a tall fellow, decent looking enough if you like them elven features… Terribly dark clothing though and I didn't like the look his eyes had, just not natural at all."

"And his hair… was it red?"

"I couldn't say, he had his hood up. And what's more he didn't say a word to me either. Just pounded on the door and then pushed past me once I'd gotten it open. He laid you out on the bed and then left as quickly as he appeared… It was all very strange. I had half a mind to call the guard but seein' you in such a state I thought tendin' to you was more important." Bothela's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her once she'd recounted the encounter. "Don't tell me you went and joined one of them Daedric cults or some such. They're far more dangerous than they appear and ain't a single one of em up to anything decent I can assure you."

Muiri almost laughed at Bothela's last remark. If the crone knew half of the things Muiri had done in her short life her thin hair would have turned a starker shade of white. "No I haven't joined any cult, though I might consider it if they promised to cure my head ache. You're sure he didn't say anything?"

Bothela found what she'd been looking for on the shelf and came back with a flask of some foul smelling liquid that she instructed Muiri to drink. Knowing better than to argue and trusting Bothela's brewing skills far more than she did Zaria's, Muiri downed the flask's contents trying not to gag as the thick liquid clung to her throat unpleasantly. "I would have remembered if he had, I'm old not daft Muiri. Now how are you feeling?"

"Alright I guess, how long was I out for?"

"A day and a half. I had a healer from the temple down here but she didn't know what was wrong with you. Any idea what might have caused it?"

"Possibly, I certainly won't be sampling any of Zaria's experimental concoctions any time soon I can tell you that much."

"She's a curious one that woman. What was this latest one supposed to do?" Bothela was no stranger to Zaria's habit of cooking up odd things rather than following recipes like most alchemists did. Though she had figured Muiri would have more sense than to down a potion without knowing its effects.

"She said it was supposed to make me sing like a lark… All it managed to do was make me fall asleep though it seems." Muiri thankfully felt her headache receding as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. For the most part she seemed to be no worse for wear minus the not remembering and the fact she'd supposedly been carried by another all the way from Falkreath. Just thinking about it made her thoughts swirl, could she even let herself believe it was who she thought it was? And if so… what was he doing outside of Falkreath? She didn't know but as Bothela went back to tending the Hag's Cure and Muiri was left to her own devices the young Breton girl was determined to find out.

* * *

It took her nearly a month to save up enough money to buy the things she thought she might need. And although Bothela had scowled and admonished her for being foolish Muiri had made up her mind. She was going to find her 'savior' and thank him properly for seeing her safely home. And in her mind she wasn't being foolish, she was in love but at least she hadn't run out the morning after learning about her dark champion. No she had waited and planned. She set out for Falkreath again with that single goal in mind and a pack on her back.

She'd taken time to replace some of her older and more thread bare dresses for newer and better fitting ones, had gone through the trouble of purchasing a week's supply of food and finally she'd splurged somewhat on a selection of red wine… all the way from Cyrodiil, or so she'd been told… and a new cloak that was the same color. _'It matches his hair…'_ she'd thought when she'd bought it with a little flutter in her chest. It might have cost her a pretty septim but it would be worth it… after all she needed to make a good impression didn't she?

The only thing she wished she had money for and didn't was a horse but given that she was going to be seeing him again she would grit and bear the less than comfortable carriage ride. Besides the journey gave her more time to think of what she would say once she found him. Not like she hadn't already spent countless hours doing that exact thing, each rendition growing even more romantic as she dreamed it up till even reason couldn't keep her fantasies in check. How was she so certain she'd find him along the road to Falkreath? Well if she was honest she wasn't certain but by the divines this was love! Mara would guide her, would led her to the arms of the one she was meant to be with unlike that devil Dufont.

A particularly large rock beneath the carriage's wheel brought her back down to Nirn. They were there so to speak, just a little ways away from the town's gates where the side of the road dropped off down a steep incline and a small oblong clearing beyond. When she'd first made up her mind about trying to find her noir clad heartache she'd worried about not remembering the spot but as she carefully made her way down the hillside she was certain she was in the right place. Although it was not nearly as romantic a spot as she'd hoped.

It was a door and a frightening one at that, carved with a scene that raised the hairs on the back of Muiri's neck. She was crouched behind a cluster of snow berry bushes, hoping the bright berries might help hide the red hue of her cloak as she watched the entrance with held breath. She needed a plan she decided, after all walking up and knocking on that ominous door seemed like a really bad idea now. Especially when she recalled the creepy question that had whispered through her mind when she'd foolishly touched it upon first seeing it.

Unbeknownst to the furiously thinking Breton girl she was being watched just as carefully as she was watching the door to the sanctuary. High above among the thick snow covered branches slipped a silent and annoyed shadow. Malatu, as he was calling himself these days, couldn't believe the foolishness of the girl below him. Part of his mind wondering if it had been a mistake to spare her life and return her unscathed to Markarth.

He'd hoped that she wouldn't remember the location nor significance of the door she'd unwittingly stumbled upon when she had quite literally fallen on top of him a month ago. Yet here she was just meters from it for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom. Did she just have a death wish or was there something more sinister at work? Had the contract she'd ordered been a lure? To gain information on the dark brotherhood or him and then use it against them? Was she a spy of some kind? Perhaps someone with a grudge against them? It wouldn't have been all that surprising, after all murdering for hire did often garner some… less than pleasant company and consequences. He'd been made painfully aware of that fact long before he'd joined the brotherhood. Long before he'd even met them for that matter.

Though as Malatu crept down the tree's trunk a bit and on to another branch he doubted she was any of those things. If she was a spy then she was the worse one he'd ever seen. Even if he hadn't been on high alert because of their previous run in when those thugs had nearly discovered the sanctuary he would have seen her red cloak and heard her careless steps. Now if he could just figure out what she was doing out here maybe just maybe he could deal with it. Hopefully before Astrid or one of the others came outside and blamed him for possibly leading someone outside of the family to their home. Just the thought of Astrid's glowering face and quick temper made him grimace, he'd already gone rounds with her over far lesser things and he'd be damned if he let her have a better reason to harass him.

Without a sound he dropped down from the tree, his body slung low to the ground as he crept behind his target. But just as he reached her Malatu glimpsed the door being pushed aside and had no choice but to throw himself on top of Muiri, toppling the poor girl to the ground unceremoniously. Hastily the elf threw an invisibility spell over the both of them, covering her mouth with the his arm as the door swung open fully.

Astrid closed the black door behind her intent on getting some air after an infuriating argument with Cicero. But as she stepped out of the dark passage and into the light of the afternoon she could have sworn she'd seen a flicker of movement out in the woods before her. '_Just an animal I suppose… that reminds me, I need to send Gabriella to get fresh food at some point lest Arnbjorn decides to go 'hunting' again.'_ She thought to herself, remembering the last kill her husband had dragged in.

It wasn't that fresh meat wasn't welcomed… just that the carcass had been so ripped to shreds that it was hard to tell what kind of meat it actually was. She might be the leader of a band of bloodthirsty murderers, but that didn't mean she couldn't lose her appetite given the right circumstances. With a shake of her head the merry murderess went to complete her woodland stroll, never knowing that she was walking right past her fellow assassin and his 'adoring fan'.

Once Astrid had walked from view Malatu let the invisibility spell fade but he didn't let Muiri up. The girl still kicking and struggling like a mule like she had been the entire time he'd been on top of her. If he wasn't so annoyed by her presence he might have admired the fiery will to live she possessed. However, the only thought that came to mind was how to rectify the situation and how to do so quickly before Astrid returned. Killing her would be quick but messy and while he might be able to explain the body to his 'boss', that was a conversation he did not want to have… too many questions he didn't want to answer. Thinking quickly he formulated a plan, one he didn't like but one that would never the less buy him time to come up with a better one. And for now he'd take what he could get.

Roughly he pulled the girl to her feet with one hand gripping the back of her clothes and his other arm still over her mouth to stifle her caterwauling. As she still couldn't see his face, and he wanted to keep it that way for now, he took the hood of her cloak and threw it over her head. Forming a makeshift executioner's hood, its drawstrings turning into a noose though he didn't strangle her with it just tied it in place.

For now he would not kill her, not until he knew what she wanted and why she was stalking him. He would need time to learn that, time and a quiet place to extract the information where he didn't have to worry about being disturbed or answering to someone else. Though he was loathe to take her _there_ it didn't seem like he had a choice in the matter. None of these thoughts were of no comfort to Muiri though.

Who not only didn't know what he was thinking but also didn't know who it was that had just pulled her hood over her eyes and was now holding it against her throat till she could scarcely breathe. All she did know was she was being attacked and this was not at all what she'd wanted nor what she had been expecting. And the next thing she felt only made her panic worse as she fought with whoever was behind her. Her hands were being caught and forced roughly behind her back and bound with a bit of coarse rope. It was then that it dawned on her... she was being kidnapped.


	4. Bluffing in the Dark

**This Chapter Has Been Recently Revised**

* * *

Muiri spent the rest of the day unable to see, bound and being jostled around on a horse with her bastard of a captor behind holding her steady in the saddle. At least she thought it was a horse, it sounded like one, galloped like one and she could hear the slap of leather reins every time the assassin behind her spurred the beast onwards. But she knew of no living horse that could travel that quickly. She didn't need to see the trees whipping by to know how fast they were going, the wind tearing at her clothing and the flitting of shadows over her hood wrapped face was more than enough evidence.

They traveled like that for hours until the sun sank beneath the rim of the world and only then did their pace slow. It didn't take long to figure out why they had slowed either as the beast came to a halt with an eerie whicker and a toss of its head. She tried to focus on all of her unrestrained senses to get an idea of where she'd been taken but there simply wasn't much to go off of. It was bitterly cold even by Skyrim standards, the gelid and thin air near unbreathable leaving her lungs pained but that was about all she could say for sure.

She had the vague notion that this was a mountain top of sorts based on the uphill climb they'd taken earlier and the fact that there was so little breathable air up here. But all she had to go on was assumptions and even then she wasn't afforded much time to think on the matter. The panic had worn off somewhat during the ride but now that they stopped it washed over her anew, making her palms sweat even as she shivered from the frigid wind.

In the back of her mind she wondered what would be the worse fate, dying from exposure and lack of oxygen or whatever her captor had in store for her. She didn't want to find out. Her wrists were rubbed raw from pulling at the restraints that held them lashed behind her but Muiri continued to struggle and kick with her waning strength as she was pulled roughly from the saddle. Her efforts however ill-fated, were not completely futile. A lucky thrust with her knee was met with a satisfying oomph from the bastard trying to pull her through the snow.

It didn't make him let her go though. Rather he's hands became rougher, jerking her upwards with a strength that stole what little breath she had. When snow gave way to stone steps and the wind was cut off by what she could only guess were walls Muiri feared the worse. A fear only deepened as a metallic thunk sounded and the floor beneath her… _moved_.

She didn't know how else to describe it, she was sinking into the ground and as if to confirm this revelation the light from the moons barely noticeable behind her veiled eyes disappeared completely. There were sounds alien to her echoing from every direction, hisses in the darkness, clicks and whirls that made her jump and flinch each time and somewhere far beyond the howl of an unearthly wind scratching its path through stone tunnels. Their descent ceased after what felt like hours, the sudden stillness making her lurch forward till her captor was forced to steady her before dragging her onward.

_'it's warmer down here… '_ the small voice at the back of her mind noted as the rest of her thoughts were too preoccupied with straining to hear what was going on around her and figuring a way out to worry about the temperature. There was also a little bit of light now filtering through the cloth over her face and giving her a spark of hope and comfort. Light was good, light meant that if she could just get her hands free she might have a chance… Those hopes were swiftly shattered by a curt tug on her arm, unspoken threats for unspoken orders. _'Walk faster or else.'_ That gesture said, and she didn't not want to find out what the 'or else' part entailed.

This time the journey really did take hours, and while the brute pulling her seemed tireless Muiri was not. Every step was agony as exhaustion, hunger and thirst dragged like stone weights around her ankles. The only thing keeping her going was the knowledge that if she didn't that it would be the end of her life. At least if she kept walking, if she was still alive… she could pray for relief… pray to be rescued… to be spared. An endless loop of pleading played through her head, till the names of the divines began to run together and devolved into a repeated orison to one and all. She didn't care who came to save her… as long as someone did.

The road; for surely the cobblestones beneath her feet indicated a road of sorts, twisted and dipped before finally stopping in front of more stone steps. And from the semi light of where ever she'd been before Muiri was thrust into all-consuming darkness once again as she was led down what sounded to be halls. Her footsteps echoed off stone, but her captor's did not and had it not been for his hand clutched crushingly over her left arm, pulling her ever onward, she wouldn't have known he was there at all.

When rest was finally offered it was amid the suffocating confines of a cage, just tall enough for Muiri to stand but not nearly long enough for her to comfortably lay down. And while being in a cage was certainly a horrifying realization to make, the relief felt from being able to sit and rest almost made her welcome it. The door clattered shut but she didn't have the energy to wince at the harsh sound nor the quieter if more unsettling one that followed it as the lock turned securely in place.

She thought that would be the end of it, that she'd be left to rot or whatever fate her captor had in mind but to her surprise the cool edge of a dagger slid between her sore wrists leaving the bindings to fall to the ground. The circulation returning to her hands made her whimper in pain, the relief of being able to move them again tempered by a thousand pinpricks burning through her skin. But she didn't care about the pain, numb fingers fumbling with the cord holding her hood in place as she desperately tore it from her face. She wanted to see her captor and to let him see the tempest he'd foolishly brought upon himself. But all she saw was darkness, she couldn't see her one bloodied hand in front of her face let alone anything else in the room. But it didn't matter, if she couldn't see him she'd throw that anger into her voice.

"Who the in Lorkhan's name do you think you are? Do you think yourself clever for locking me in a cage in some slimy hole hmm? Having yourself a nice laugh are you? Well enjoy it while you can you bastard! Because when I get out of here I will make you pay for every indignity I've suffered! You think you're brave now hiding in the dark like a coward… But just wait. I have friends, powerful, ruthless friends, and they won't hesitate to tear you to pieces if you don't let me go this instant!" Shouting was about all she had the strength to do at this point, her anger giving her just enough of a rush to put some actually conviction into threats she knew she couldn't make good on.

She didn't know who was out in the darkness but she could feel their eyes on her, the presence enough to make the small hairs along her arms raise as she bristled with fury. Who would even want to kidnap her? Bandits? _'No it would be easier for them to just kill me and take my things or demand I hand over my possessions in return for me life… not drag me around Skyrim and then down here.'_ She didn't even know where here was but it didn't matter, bandits were an unlikely suspect. _'Who then? Who hates me enough for the effort but wouldn't benefit from just killing me and being done with it?'_

A list started to form in the silence following her scathing remarks, but every suspect she thought up seemed just as unlikely as the last until only two remained. The first was that she was going to be sacrificed to one of the Daedric lords by one of the crazy cults Bothela had mentioned or one of Alain's flunkies had found out she'd ordered the contract on their boss and was now out for revenge. She hoped it was the latter, she could bargain or possibly scare some wannabe cutthroat if she played her cards right… but there was likely no persuading the faithfully fanatic.

"If you know what's good for you you'll let me out right now!" she yelled again, her throat dry and hoarse but straining all the same to make her words bite and scratch in ways she couldn't physically. Her next words however were a gamble and she knew it, throwing caution to the wind as desperation bloomed into a bluff. "My lover is a part of the dark brotherhood and divines help you when he finds out about this." Her words were a snarl, weak fingers squeezed over cold brass bars as she pressed her face close to them daring her unseen keeper for a response.

* * *

He couldn't believe his pointed ears. _'my lover…'_ she'd invoked his guild in name, was using it as a threat against him… not a single syllable of Muiri's words made sense to the dunmer standing just outside of the cage he currently had her locked in. The silence built, strained and then snapped as his curiosity got the best of him. He couldn't help it, there were just too many questions and no other way to get answers quickly enough.

"Why do you think you are here?" It wasn't perhaps the best question to ask but it was the one that formed with the most clarity as Malatu tried to sort through the swarm between his pointed ears. The sudden question prompted no small amount of pause on Muiri side of the bars, her dirt smudged jaw opening and closing several times as a response refused to form at first.

"I should be asking you that question you coward. If you don't know the reason then why in oblivion's name did you kidnap me?"

"I didn't ask why you were brought here, I asked why you thought you were." He corrected but waved the comment off even though it was too dark in that room for her to see the gesture. "First things first then, why were you watching the black door?"

"That is none of your business!" She snapped in return, an unintended defensive bite to her tone.

"You are very bold for an unarmed prisoner." There was a soft sound of leather rubbing against something before the distinct clink of metal on metal had Muiri shuffling back from the bars quickly. She didn't need to see to sense the danger now permeating the air like fragile perfume. "You can either answer my questions of your own accord or I can… cut them from you. It is your choice."

Muiri had to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her dry throat in order to speak again but she answered reluctantly all the same.

"I was going to meet someone." Her answer was quiet, a mumbled thing that still managed to stand out in the otherwise silent room.

It was not the answer he'd been expecting, then again none of this had been expected and in truth that only caused him greater ire. If it wasn't expected then there could be no plan for it, and if there was no plan…

"And this someone, do they have a name?" He continued, keeping his tone flat even as his narrow shoulders grew more rigid with each passing answer the woman in front of him gave. If she was telling the truth and he had just unwittingly kidnapped one of his _siblings'_ lover then he had an even bigger mess on his hands than originally thought. Though even as that thought occurred to him it seemed unlikely. He'd seen Muiri often enough wandering the streets of Markarth and although it was also in passing and at a distance he'd never noticed another member of the brotherhood approach her. The scent of her fear was palpable to his inhuman senses, but her stance was defiant and he doubted she even knew that her hands were clenched into fists so focus was she on locating the sound of his voice. It was a curious sight to him but it did nothing to put him at ease.

"Why should I tell you it?"

"Because you don't have a choice in the matter. I will find out one way or another, and every time you hesitate to give me an answer you will regret it." He'd already warned her once, he was not in the mood to repeat himself anymore. "And do not bother lying to me, I can smell it when you are dishonest."

"You really are a sick bastard aren't you." She mustered up the courage to say those words albeit under her breath, but then answered the question regardless… after all she might have her foolish moments but not that particular brand of bravado. "His name is Malatu… And so help me when he finds out about this you are going to wish you'd never been born!" then again perhaps she really was that foolish.

Now Malatu knew he did not hear that correctly... There was simply no way his ears had picked that up right… but she'd spit it out clearly... and there was no denying the words even if they made his head spin. He'd thought responses to many possible answers she might throw his way… but none for that one. Malatu didn't know whether to laugh, berate her for concocting this farce or leave the room and its clearly insane occupant.

But he did none of those things at first because as was often the case, a sadistic little smile slipped over his features. An opportunity to play had been presented after all… practically gift wrapped for him and all of his cruel little quirks. An opportunity he would have to mull over so as to not waste it. He decided that he needed to compose his thoughts, needed time to analyze and consider everything that one spoken statement revealed. Without another word he left the room, closing the brass door behind him and leaving the caged Muiri with nothing but her pack, her questions and her anger. They were both in for a few long and restless nights.

* * *

Author's note: I am in desperate need of a beta for this and so as always I apologize for the errors, it's not my intent to make your eyes bleed.

In response to DevoutOfSheogorath, (sweet username btw) No I don't consider the majority of what takes place in this story to be romantic, but that being said it does at times have romantic tones. If anything its more taking things considered not romantic and framing them like they are romantic to paint an unsettling scene or vice-versa taking something normally considered sweet or tender and making it seem creepy. But to be clear 'Malatu', is not someone anyone could form a healthy relationship with. But that's half the fun of writing this I suppose. Also thanks for the feedback.


	5. Of Candy and Mead

**This Chapter Has Recently Been Revised.**

* * *

"There you are!" Gabriella called from above, padding down the stairs from the communal sleeping area and into what served as both kitchen and dining room for their demented little family. And just like that the game of dice between Babette and Malatu was brought to a swift stand still. All the better too as that simple game of odds and evens had taken on an atmosphere of blood thirst and brewing hurricane.

"Don't think I didn't see that…" The child like voice quipped as Malatu turned toward his similarly robed ' dark sister' and away from the game with its pile of leveraged sweets in their wax paper wrappings.

"Haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about…" The male muttered as Gabriella grabbed herself an orange and took a seat with them. "So what did you need dear sister?" So quick to avert his and hopefully the glowering Babette's attention elsewhere.

"I came to tell you to get your gear ready, we're heading to Whiterun within the hour." Gabriella informed, glancing side long at their amassed pile of candy and the single piece Malatu had pressed along the underside of the table where Babette in theory could not see it.

"Oh? Business or pleasure?" Came Malatu's reply seconds before he had to duck out of the way of a particularly sharp bread knife slicing the air where his head had been. "Now Babette, do mind your tenants. Thou shall not harm a dark sibling." Turning to the vampire and chiding her in the tone one would use on a naughty child. Fangs any predator would be proud of gnashed at the air in a momentary spark of fury before the smallest member of the sanctuary quieted, smoothing her petite hands over the skirts of her plain cotton dress.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about brother, the knife slipped obviously, after all my hands are rather small so it's a common occurrence." Was the retort, barely a wisp of feigned innocence lacing the tone as she regained her childlike composure.

"Anyway… as I was saying, it's a bit of both. There's a contract on a Bosmer hunter there that needs to be taken care of and I have an old acquaintance I wish to visit with." Gabriella cut in, seeing as Malatu looked seconds away from egging their smaller 'sister' on. In good humor of course, the only ones the darkelf seemed to truly clash with among the others was Arnbjorn and to a lesser degree Astrid. Though Gabriella suspected the latter was merely because Malatu was as stubborn and unruly as mule.

"Seems simple enough. Although why are we both needed for this? It seems like over kill if you'll pardon the pun."

"Well the contract is yours technically, but seeing as I'm already heading there I thought I'd come along for the journey. Nothing wrong with sharing a hunt after all." Gabriella explained before popping a few sections of orange in her mouth, her fingers working to peel and separate the rest of the citrus fruit. "Besides you have a habit of sneaking off after contracts and not returning home for days on end so it will be good for at least one of us to pass word along to Nazir that the job is done."

"I've noticed that too. Tell us dear brother, where do you go when you've finished hunting? Off to some secret lover I bet. Perhaps paying a visit or two to the temple of Dibella? It's no secret you have a thing for Markarth though only Sithis knows why." Babette chimed in, leaning forward with her elbows pressed into the rough wood of the table and her hands covering a giggle that threatened to escape her mouth.

"It is none of your business what I do with my time you pipsqueak with fangs." The moment the words left his lips he regretted it. His retort having been delivered too quickly and too defensively to sound natural. _'Damn it.' _The silent mutter echoed inside his skull as Babette's giggling became more prominent and Gabriella's hand flashed out and on to the one he had resting on the table's edge.

"Oh dear brother there is no need to feel shame for having your desires satisfied. I just wish you have alerted me about it… I could have saved you a trip or two." She said it so bluntly that it wasn't until he saw the corner of her lips twitch up that Malatu knew Gabriella was joking. And something about that just made it all the worse as a scarlet blush crept annoying over the tops of his cheeks.

Both women lost themselves to their laughter, the peals of it so boisterous that Nazir had to call down to them from upstairs just to admonish them for being so damned noisy. Malatu said nothing, simply rising from his chair in defeat as there was no point in fighting a losing battle when cutting his losses was the better option. Besides Babette was so distracted by almost falling out of her chair she didn't even notice him swiping the majority of the candy they'd been squabbling over.

Taking the steps two at a time Malatu put some distance between himself and his guffawing sisters, going over to the bed he slept in when staying at the sanctuary and pulling his gear from the chest at the foot of it. He never kept much at the sanctuary, the idea of shared living space had always put him somewhat on edge especially when belongings were a part of the mix.

So with his daggers strapped along his forearms and one in his boot for good measure he was pretty much set. With a wave to Veezara and nod to Festus as both came in for their midday meal he made his way past the forge and toward the entrance. Astrid gave him but a passing glance from her desk as he made his way up the passage way and he did his best to look at ease. Even when her eyes slid down his spine like a spider crawling just beneath the skin. Her guard dog might be out on a contract currently but that had only relieved some of the tension the sanctuary had been suffering from lately. And in the back of his mind Malatu was more than glad that he wouldn't be spending the night under the same roof as the two of them. Outwardly however he said nothing, it wouldn't do to snap at her over something perceived, she'd just throw it in his face that he was acting paranoid again.

The air outside was crisp compared to the slight must of the sanctuary. Disturbed only by the low calls of animals floating from the surrounding woods in tune with the chorus of midday insects that buzzed noisily above the pool to his left. A few moments later Gabriella joined him, her face still rosy from laughter though she was no longer splitting at the seams with it.

"Shall we then sister?" Malatu said giving a mock bow and gesturing for her to go before him the moment she stepped from the door and out into the fresh pine scented air. The sun was not quite overhead yet but hung high in the heavens, though it wasn't easy to tell beneath such dense foliage. A covering he was grateful for as he tugged his hood further over his face until the majority of his skin was obscured from sight.

"Indeed, We need to stop in Falkreath first though."

"What ever for?"

"A horse of course, I don't feel like walking all the way to Whiterun do you?" She was surprised to see his demeanor actually stiffen after her explanation, the mask of calm slipping for a split second to leave a look of ill ease exposed. She couldn't fathom why though and as he hurried up the path with those long quick steps only the elves can manage Gabriella hadn't the time to ask.

She didn't have to wait long for her answer though, as they made it to Falkreath and Gabriella retrieved the horse she normally rented from one of the farmers. A former client of hers he never seemed to mind when his horse would go missing to be replaced by a bag of gold coins. Particularly when it would show up days or sometimes weeks later with no explanation but seemingly in good health. The moment she hopped into the saddle, scooting a bit forward so as to give her companion room and turning to give him a hand up it became pretty clear what the look earlier had been about.

"You don't like horse do you?" She didn't even need him to answer, the question really only a polite formality to indicate that she knew.

"Is it really that obvious?" He replied, eyeing the beast she was sitting on with an unreadable expression.

"Given that you are still on the other side of the fence… Yes, yes it is. And while I'd love to know why… we really don't have time to dawdle if we want to make it before nightfall." She held out her hand, not giving him really any other option other than to hop the fence and clamber up beside her. The horse, as if sensing the nervousness radiating from the saddle on its back snickered and side stepped quickly as if spooked, although there was nothing on the road to cause it alarm.

"Stupid four legged swit, good for nothing son of a horker…" The curses continued on but the assassin's hooded face was buried tightly against Gabriella's shoulder at that moment so she never heard the rest of what her fellow Dunmer was saying. Her better judgment indicated that she shouldn't comment on the way he had jumped when the horse had lurched, nor on the fact he had a death grip on her waist that was close to crushing. And for once she listened to her better judgment and merely spurred the horse into a quick yet even trot towards the plains of Whiterun. After all if she mentioned he was holding her he might have let go.

* * *

They reached the gates of Whiterun a little after sunset, stabling their horse with the mildly intoxicated Nord minding the stables before heading through the thick wooden doors into the city proper. During the journey Gabriella had passed along the details of the target from what Nazir had told her earlier. Though in truth it probably wasn't that necessary as they'd barely reached the town square when they spotted the hunter destined to be hunted. He was easy to pick out among the crowd of men and women filtering from the market with the day's shopping tucked under their arms. Short of stature with skin tanned naturally by both heritage and sunlight Anoriath stood out like a sore thumb. From behind his market stall with its assortment of venison chops and skinned rabbits hanging from heavy hooks his bearded face beamed cheerfully at those passing by, assuring them that all his product was fresh from the wilds.

"So how would you like to do this?" Malatu inquired casually though he didn't turn to look at her now that their target was in sight.

"What do you mean?" His question had caught her off guard, as the crowds brushed and pushed past them like water flowing around stubborn stones. Above it all countless little spirals of smoke floated lazily upwards as the town guard began lighting the many braziers that dotted the streets. It would have been easy to lose each other among that swell of bodies and sounds, but this was a hunt and very little could have truly separated them now that their victim's scent was caught.

"Well the roofs are too low to be adequate for use. Anything moving up there would be seen in an instant, but it's too bloody crowded for a discreet no fuss job. Judging from the way he carries himself it's also unlikely that catching him off guard is going to happen. So how do you suggest we proceed?" Malatu's tone was if anything nonchalant, anyone passing by likely wouldn't have been able to pick the articulate cadence of it out from the other sounds around them. Which wasn't all that surprising as after all practice does make perfect.

Gabriella folder her arms across her chest for a moment, chewing over potential angles and situations until it was clear that currently there weren't any. At least not any that wouldn't get them caught by the guard or seriously injured by their target.

"For now I think some sightseeing is in order. An opportunity may present itself if we have a bit of patience."

"I'm hurt by your implication dear sister," Malatu feigned with a wry smile as he fished a sweet from his pocket, twirling it from its wrapper and into his mouth. "I am if anything a patient being."

"Sure you are, and I'm a unicorn. Now let's get a drink." At his quirked brow Gabriella pointed to a worn sign swaying slightly in the breeze off to their left and a ways behind them. On its surface painted in weather worn letters that were not nearly as curious as the name they spelled out were the words "The Drunk Huntsman". A few more minutes and their target had cleaned up his stall for the night and seemed to be heading in that direction.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Malatu's voice coming out as more of a disgruntled growl than anything else as he let his hood fall back down against his shoulders, putting on the airs of a traveler rather than paid assassin in the cooling evening air.

"Don't tell me you hate taverns as well as horses…"

"Only one's in Skyrim." And with that they headed inside.

* * *

The Drunk Huntsman turned out to not be nearly as crowded as both had figured it would be, with only a few patrons tucked away at the establishment's sparse seating. In the middle of the floor a hearth was built into the floor in what Malatu assumed was traditional Nordic style though the scent steaming out of the cooking pot above it was anything but Nordic in creation. Spices only half of which he had names for flavored the air and there was an immediate warmth about the building that made it far more pleasing than most of the bars and inns he'd encountered in the frigid north. From behind the counter a polite if hollow greeting caught their attention.

"Ah, hello my Dunmeri friends. In the market for some hunting supplies or just something to wet your throats?" The mer behind the counter greeting them was of Bosmer linage, wearing clothing traditional to those of the merchant bent and cleaning out mugs with a clean damp cloth.

A soft smile broke over Gabriella's face and Malatu didn't need to ask why, it was clear from the color of his skin and hair along with the particulars of his face that he shared a relative tie with the mer they'd just been discussing how best to murder. As Gabriella's hip swaying gait brought her over to the bar and on to a stool the sound of the door opening behind Malatu drew the latter assassin's notice. but seeing who it was only managed to further his amusement.

"Anoriath, close the door already, you're letting all the warm air out." Came the less than brotherly request from Elrindir as he began pouring Gabriella a drink she had apparently ordered.

Anoriath shot his brother a look that had it been an arrow would have killed before doing as he was told, slamming the door needlessly hard behind him with a heel. The brothers exchanged glares for a moment before continuing on with what they were doing, having reached that point in siblinghood in which words are unnecessary most of the time. Anoriath's arms were laden with meat he hadn't sold during the day making it difficult for him to skirt around the Dunmer male directly in his path without at least a little collision. but seeing as the black clad male didn't seem bothered by being bumped into Anoriath only mumbled some quick apology before heading in the direction of the bar.

He chose to ignore Elrindir's veiled scowl as he scooted behind the counter and made short work of setting everything in its proper place in their store room. But upon turning around and catching the eyes of a very pretty elven female who was eyeing him up like a delicate morsel, Anoriath's mind quite forgot what he intended to do in favor of what he now wanted to do. He was about to introduce himself then, to ask what she was drinking and perhaps if she'd like another on the house but those thoughts never made it out of his mouth as Malatu slid into the seat next to her. Their closeness was easy to see, even their outfits spoke of it, seemingly cut from the same dark cloth. though In the back of Anoriath's mind he noted that the female looked far better in her form fitting black robes than the male sitting beside her. Though that was probably simply due to the fact that males were not really his taste.

The only real question… to him anyway… was whether or not it was the closeness of friends, family or of lovers. Anoriath was hoping it wasn't the latter as he all but bumped his brother out of the way and leaned his elbows down in between the two Dunmer, essentially inserting himself into their company and hopefully conversation.

"So, first time in Whiterun? If so then may I interest you in a tour?" He blurted out, a bit surprised at his own boldness but continuing all the same. "That is if you aren't too tired from the road, ah but where are my manners? The name's Anoriath… and you my lady? What beautiful name did the divines grace you with?"

He liked his women much like he liked his hunts, wild, passionate and just a tad dangerous. The woman that sat in front of him looked like all those things and possibly more with one slender finger slipping seductively around the brim of her mug as she contemplated how to answer his rushed words.

"No I've visited this city before… but it is my first time stopping in here for a drink. I don't normally have time to enjoy myself unfortunately." Gabriella purred, not at all surprised by the Bosmer's behavior and in a way expecting it. "As for my name, it is Iverila, it's a pleasure to meet you." She lied before lightly dipping into the honey brewed liquor within her cup and then drawing the wetted finger up to her pale pink lips before licking it clean. The Bosmer wasn't sure why but there was a growing part of him that was at that moment very very jealous of the mead in her mug.

"Careful dear sister, you know you don't handle your liquor very well. Wouldn't want a scene like last time would we?" This coming from the male seated to her left with all the tone and arrogance of a well off nobleman, though in truth it wasn't Malatu's created persona that caught Anoriath's attention so much as the melodious laugh flowing from the female beside him. They couldn't have made this act more convincing even if they'd spent their lives on the stage and not in the shadows.

_'I wouldn't mind a scene if she were at its center… especially if it gave an idea of how well she handles… other things besides liquor.'_ The thought hit the Bosmer and was almost surprising in its strength. And for a moment that realization confused Anoriath, making him question his own sudden lust for a woman he had only just set eyes on. Before he could think too much on it though Elrindir brought him back to Nirn, the latter all but smacking his brother in the gut with his own bow and quiver.

"The prey does not catch itself Anoriath. And if you stay out all night then you're going to bellyache tomorrow about having to open the stall in the morning."

Just because Elrindir was correct didn't stop Anoriath from wanting to protest as his brother all but pushed him right back out the door after he'd only just come in from a day's work. _' Especially now when there's actually a good reason to stay and play bar keep for once.'_ But there was nothing for it and the Bosmer slung his quiver over his shoulder with all the disgruntlement one might have expected before leaving in much the same way he had entered only a few moments before.

_'Damn, so much for seduction spells.'_ Malatu thought watching the door slam behind Anoriath with a mildly irked expression.

"Don't worry about him, he just needs to go work it out of his system a bit… wild temperament and all that." Elrindir commented before setting a bowl of stew down in front of Gabriella seeing as she was the only one out of the two to actually order supper and a drink. She of course was unperturbed by the fact that their target had just walked out of sight and into the looming night, after all night was the most ideal time for hunting and this wasn't even her contract to finish.


	6. Tea Leaves and Memories

**A/N's: **So this chapter might be a tad confusing at first because the tense and POV's jump back and forth. This is intended but I apologize if anyone is bothered by it. Also, there is some mild violence but then again if you've made it this far you're probably used to that by now.

* * *

_Thump, thump, thump. _The pulse of the night was barely audible to his ears but ever present in the sway of his footsteps. Out among the rolling hills with their crowns of wild flowers waving in the wind it was easy to clear his mind, easy to sink into his own instincts and let them take over fully. Out here there were no pretty females to distract him, no badgering brother to berate him for rebelling against city life and the dullness that it brought. There was only him and his prey, dancing the steps of a ritual as old as time itself. Mortality would claim him someday like it did all living things but that thought only made the act of hunting more enjoyable, to see the circle completed as one life ended so that another could continue. There really was nothing more natural nor harmonious than that understanding.

Anoriath slipped across the plains as much a part of them as the pair of deer he was stalking, using the passing clouds to stay hidden as they drifted lazily below the shifting northern lights. In his hands his bow was just an extension of himself, its string as taunt and strong as the muscles that drew it back. He breathed in, steadying the arrow along his right thumb as a calm stillness crept into his very soul. The sounds of the night faded from his mind as his concentration tightened, whittling the world down until there was only he and his quarry. The moment drew to a close and his fingers released, the bolt whistling in its near perfect flight before burying itself deep in the shoulder of the first deer. Its companion not even aware that something was wrong until a second shaft whistled just to the left of its perked ear. It bolted immediately, never looking back at its companion whose front leg crumpled beneath it unable to bear its own weight as it also tried desperately to flee from the hunter.

The injured deer stumbled a few paces before falling heavily on its injured side, its blood slicking the grass as Anoriath moved closer and it thrashed in response to his presence. He cautiously placed a hand on its heaving side, willing it to be still and at peace. In the back of his mind the indestructible link he had to nature flared to life, conjured from the depths of his being and feeling much like his home forests of Valenwood. The beast beside him went still, its eyes glazing over with the illusion of calm as his hunting knife slit its exposed throat.

He'd just started to dress the kill when something set his teeth on edge. Crawling like a spider along his nerves a tension over took him that he couldn't shake, he'd look over his shoulder expecting to see some wolf or sabre cat attracted by the scent of blood but nothing stirred except the wind among the grass. He told himself it was nothing, probably just a curious fox waiting for him to finish so it could come in and snap up the scraps he left behind. But still that itch between his shoulder blades would not dissipate. So when the telltale crunch of a misplaced step reached his sensitive Bosmer ears Anoriath whipped around with fists swinging. His first jab hit home with a satisfying crack to his stalker's jaw, with any luck a dislocation or possible break. A grin flashed across his tanned features seeing his opponent stunned for the moment. _'That ought to show this would be bandit a thing or two.'_ His mind jeered in premature congratulations as he rushed forward again, hoping to place a well-aimed kick right to his foe's gut.

The kick landed but his attack had been anticipated this time and with blinding speed his attacker's left arm had wrapped around Anoriath's boot, trapping his leg even as his opponent's fist slammed into the side of his knee with a sickening crunch. The pain was immediate but the Bosmer had no time to cry out as he was tackled to the ground. In the resulting thrashing of fists and elbows as the two mer rolled about on the ground struggling to gain the upper hand, Anoriath's hand landed on his discarded bow and he uttered a silent thank you to Y'ffre as he swung the weapon into the face of the dunmer on top of him.

The wood cracked, splintering with the force of the blow and affording Anoriath a moment or two to attempt to crawl from beneath the mer currently pinning him to the ground. His fingernails scrapped in the dirt, clawing and kicking with his undamaged leg desperate to get away. But those sparse moments were not enough and it didn't take the assassin long to shake the fog from his now bleeding head as he wrestled the broken bow from his victim. Using the string of his own bow Malatu strangled the life from the struggling Bosmer. Pulling it tighter and tighter long after his prey had stopped writhing. Only when the heart beat faded completely from the body beneath him did he let the broken bow fall from his hands, rising to his feet as the thrill of the kill gradually subsided.

His jaw was aching like no other and beginning to swell, of that he was sure as he swiped at the trickle of blood flowing from his temple. He wanted to head back to Whiterun and see if Gabriella had something to dull the pain… but this was a dark brotherhood kill, and Malatu was the kind of assassin to never leave a job without signing his work if he could. From his sleeve he retrieved one of the blades he'd intended to plant into Anoriath's back before the Bosmer had caught him off guard with his right hook. Like a sculptor positioning the clay in just the right position before beginning their work Malatu carefully rolled the cooling corpse before him on to its back. From a pouch on his belt he produced a small empty vial, and with a calculating slice along Anoriath's neck the vial was filled to the brim with the elixir of life. Two more cuts and his signature and the contract were complete, leaving a sore, bruised but pleased Malatu to walk back towards the distant light of the city gates.

* * *

_Thump thump thump. The pounding of drums echoing in stone. This tempo a heartbeat that turns the streams to veins, pumping crimson across the world and flowing in the wake of death and despair. The hills heave and flicker on the horizon, breathing flames and whispering ash to the secret skies. Names of the fallen and souls intangible flit through those towering spirals, their earthly bonds are severed and they are heaven bound._

_She sits in a tiny canoe trembling at the edge of a roiling river. The water seethes past the roughhewn wood and its terrified passengers threatening to tear the flimsy boat from its mooring rope. There is a hand on her shoulder trying to be comforting but too furious to be anything more than bruising. But she doesn't care that the touch is crushing, doesn't care that the canoe is lurching to and fro… because what she sees is too macabre to look away from. Her gaze is on the skyline, trapped like a moth that flies into the flame unable to escape its lure. The shapes there dance, rising and falling against a canvas painted in shades of orange and yellow that billows and shifts with the rising winds. But there is no beauty to this dance, no elegance to this passion as the figures writhe and surge across the burning fields._

_She is too young to understand what is at stake, too innocent to know of greed wearing the guise of honor. All she knows is uncertainty, all she feels is numbness keeping fear at bay and all she can hear is the pounding in the distance and in her own head. Someone cuts the line, the boat jerks and she is tossed to the side like a doll. Water hits her face and turns her own dress into an anchor bound for the bottom. Her fragile arms thrash in front of her hitting charred debris and softer more terrifying things. The fight for air is maddening, her small lungs burn with need of it urging a body that is too underdeveloped to win against the currents that carry her under._

* * *

Muiri came to in a tangle of her own clothes, sucking down air greedily with a sheen of sweat beading from her brow. The only thing calming her in the absolute darkness was that simple act… inhale and exhale, inhale exhale. It felt strange to her as her mind finally pieced itself together again and shook off the remnants of her dream, to be thankful to be in a cage alone without any light. She was dry but shivering and no amount of pulling her cloak in tighter would cease the chill that radiated not from her surroundings but from her mind. Beyond the bars of her prison the sound that was to blame for her misery continued to thump onward, the pounding ceaseless and ever present but too loud to ignore try as she might. She didn't know it's source, only that it rang from all directions until her bones reverberated with it. If she listened closely she could make out other sounds beneath it, but they were fleeting and hushed compared to the pounding.

It hadn't been like this the first night since she'd been locked away, and wistfully she missed those hours where her only discomfort was soreness and fear. At least she had her pack with her, food and drink enough for a few more days at least. The wine helped little though, barely making the stale bread chewable and utterly incapable of distracting her from that noise. That teeth grinding, aching noise… she could barely hear herself think which was probably the silver lining. If she couldn't think she couldn't worry about what would happen when her supplies ran out. Couldn't consider that perhaps no rescue was coming… couldn't grieve the fact that she would likely die alone from starvation or worse.

* * *

"You look like the void tried to swallow you brother." It never failed, ever word Malatu heard issue from Gabriella's mouth was as to the point and cheeky as it could possibly be. And as was often the case, she was correct in her observation as her fellow assassin trudged wearily into Olava's tiny hovel of a home. "Don't tell me the hunted gave the hunter a hard time…"

"He hit surprisingly hard for someone so short." Came Malatu's grumbled admission, his gloved hand rising to tentatively touch his swollen jaw and wincing when said touch was met with an particularly painful ache. The wound on his head was more serious but hurt less for some unbeknownst reason, though that brought him no peace of mind in the slightest. "I don't suppose you have any potions on you that would make this hurt a little less?"

In her chair beside the house's hearth Gabriella unfolded her arms before pointing to her pack near the door in answer.

"It's the one with the red bottle and green seal on the stopper." She added before turning back to the feeble elderly women she'd been speaking with. "Olava do you mind if we use your kettle? I'd like to make some tea if that's alright."

"Suit yourself dear, I'm thinking of heading to bed shortly anyway. These bones aren't as lively as they used to be after all and it's rather late." Olava shrugged her hunched shoulders, gesturing over to a shelf where the majority of her cookware was stored. She stood then, walking off towards a curtain covered alcove most likely to change into her night gown. Malatu was glad for that, given how small the place was he'd been worried the wrinkly old woman would just throw her clothes off without regard for her guests. But it seemed that while Olava the feeble had no qualms about two assassin's having tea while she slept she did still have the good sense to get undressed away from sight.

Rummaging through Gabriella's bag and making an effort not to comment on all the strange things packed within, Malatu finally found the potion she'd mentioned and brought it over to the table while Gabriella filled the kettle and grabbed a pair of cups from the shelf for them. With the old woman in bed snoozing like a bear and the two Dunmer settled around the small cluttered table waiting for the water to boil the inevitable conversation unfolded.

"So what did you two talk about while I was out taking care of our late Bosmer friend?" Malatu began while breaking the wax seal on the health potion and knocking it back like one would the strongest of liquor. The taste was bitter beyond belief and left the most unpleasant gritty taste in its wake, leading to an embarrassing amount of sputtering on his part while Gabriella just watched with laughter dancing in her eyes.

"I probably should have warned you about the taste… that one in particular is better if you take it with something else." She informed him nonchalantly before rising to tend the whistling kettle and returning with two steaming cups of herbal tea. " Here this should help cut the flavor, as for your question…" she went on, passing him his cup before taking her seat once more and sipping at her own. " We talked about many things, both Olava and myself possess the gift of future sight. So every so often I drop by to talk to her about what we've both glimpsed in regards to what is to come."

"Well that's unexpected… and here I thought you two had spent the night swapping knitting tips." Quipped Malatu in effort to disguise his interest in what he'd just been told. The power to see into the future being one of particular interest to the arrogant assassin.

"There was a bit of that too, I am after all a woman of refined yet simple tastes." Gabriella replied casually, a lady like smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as they both sipped at their tea each studying the other over the brims of their cups.

"So how did you come to acquire such a gift? Is it something you picked up through study or an inborn talent?"

"That's a tad nosy of you don't you think? Asking such personal questions one might almost begin to wonder if you had an ulterior motive for all this."

"Oh? Simply getting to know you isn't a good enough reason to ask?"

"Perhaps, but is it really me that interests you or some nursed sense of ambition?"

"As ever dear Gabriella you wound me with your suspicions. And don't be so quick to sell yourself short.. after all I find you very very interesting with very good reason." He took one last swallow of his tea and the healing potion within, draining his glass as the effects began to numb every ache he was feeling. It was a curious sensation, to be on edge and yet playful in the mind while your body gradually settles into blissful numbness.

"And as ever flattery will get you everywhere. Though if I am answering your questions then perhaps I can persuade you to answer one of my own."

"Certainly sister, it is after all only fair."

"My abilities are an inborn talent, a blessing as it were from Azura herself." Gabriella stated frankly, watching the glimmer of disappointment flick across her companion's face in the firelight. "Now it is my turn, where did you learn your illusion magic?"

"Ah so you saw that back at the tavern… though I should probably mention that I wasn't trying to make him lust after you, but then again in hindsight it wasn't so surprising an outcome. But on to your question, well the short answer is all over Tamriel, though it seems many of the spells in my repertoire are no longer actively practiced by most." He settled with his arms folded over the top of the table and his head resting upon them. Which brought Gabriella to another question she'd been meaning to ask for a while now.

"That tattoo on your cheek, any meaning behind it or was it just a decorative choice?" She knew better than to reach out and brush her fingers over the scrawling ink imprinted on his skin. although that wasn't to say she hadn't considered doing just that more than once since she'd noticed the small intricately drawn spider detailed there. Whether because of the exhausting and nerve wrecking ride to Whiterun, the evening's illicit activities, or whatever herbs had been crushed and boiled into the drink he'd just consumed Malatu found himself answering honestly with no hesitation.

"Religious reasons in a way, though if I'm truly honest I suppose I got it more as a token of adoration than faith." He said through a yawn that he didn't even bother to stifle. "Though now you owe me another question you know."

"Ah so it is a reference to Mephala then. And I suppose that's only fair that you ask me another."

"Yes and no, though I suppose it would be pointless to explain further than that…" His expression was a grimace even with his eyes closed and slumber so close to over taking him. Gabriella could hear it in the way he slurred his words, that archaic Morrowind accent slipping in every now and then. "So your ability of divination… does it show you past events as well as future ones? What about the present? Are you able to see things taking place in other locations at al…" Malatu never finished what he was going to say, nor did he get to hear Gabriella's whispered answer as the latter draped a spare blanket over his slumbering shoulders.

"Yes I can see the past but not what takes place elsewhere in the present. And that's two questions brother… You owe me one more." But like with most things, Gabriella was patient, biding her time and waiting for the opportune moment. After all, there was still a little time left before everything would run its course. From the table she took his emptied glass, turning it this way and that while her mind languidly shifted from the realm of thought to the realm of symbols and meaning. At the cup's bottom the dregs of tea leaves settled, forming patterns and shapes that to her were merely a means to an end, words to be read in snippets and then pieced together by her gift. In a way she felt a twinge of guilt about prying into a past that he'd gone to great lengths to avoid talking about... but she had to know, had to see and understand for herself.

As the images flashed in her mind one right after the other, each one intimate and more twisted than the last the cup fell from her hands, falling to the table and rolling as the last drops of liquid spilled forth. her breathing was hitching in her throat, red eyes squeezed shut in vain against moments of time that seared through her mind. As the visions faded and she was left rattled but unharmed she almost wished she hadn't looked, hadn't seen if only so she would no longer understand.


	7. Werewolves, Skeletons and Dragons Oh My

**A/N's:** So fair warning this chapter is kind of... all over the place? I'm not sure how else to say it so once again my apologies for any and all errors along with any confusion caused. I'm just going to blame the craziness on Cicero and say it's all his fault. Also I'm doing some revision and lots of editing today and possibly tomorrow so it may be a day or two before I get the chance to update this story. Forgive me for the wait but it should make earlier chapters not only better but more enjoyable/easier to read.

* * *

"No you're holding it wrong, and your center of balance is off, if you hunch that low to the ground you're not going to be able to gather the force you need for an effective swing." For what was likely the fourth time that day Veezara found himself rubbing at tired eyes before having to walk over and correct his student's stance. For the past few days there hadn't been much to do in the sanctuary besides laze around, squabble and train and there really was no question about which of the three they all should be doing. It was in fact the reason why he'd agreed to assume the mantle of trainer, though had he known how tedious it would be he might have reconsidered.

"I've never had problems before with this stance…" Grumbled the equally annoyed Malatu. Even if he'd been the one to ask Veezara to teach him how to effectively wield something larger than the daggers he was used to, being corrected over and over and over had begun to wear his patience dangerously thin. Especially after having to suffer through yet another pony ride earlier from Whiterun back to the sanctuary and the fact that his jaw was still sore from his last job.

"If it were a dagger you'd be fine, because you're dealing with less weight and a shorter range." Came the snapped response, Veezara's thick reptilian lips twisting into a frown at having to repeat himself once again. _'I knew dark elves were stubborn but this is ridiculous.' _His mind seethed that which he refused to say out loud. At this point they were making absolutely no headway and it seemed unlikely that that was going to change anytime soon unless the shadowscale changed his teaching method. "You know what, let me show you what I mean. Arnbjorn… can you come over here for a moment?"

The aforementioned werewolf had been hammering something at his forge for hours, the ring of metal on searing metal almost drowning out Veezara's request. But those more than human ears caught the words regardless and like a bear stirred from its hibernation early Arnbjorn lumbered slowly toward the pair.

"What did you need?" The coarse baritone rumbled once he'd reached them.

"I need to prove a point," Veezara explained, his arms rising to fold over his chest. It was probably unwise to pit these two against each other but at this point the Argonian didn't give a damn, if Malatu wouldn't take his word for it then this was the quickest way to prove it to the Dunmer. "You might need a shield though to be on the safe side. Alright you two are going to spar, Arnbjorn if you will please stick to only defense and Malatu you'll be attacking. I shouldn't have to say this but I will anyway, no fatal blows and try not to bloody each other up too much. I don't want to have to drag one or both of you to a healer because you two couldn't play nice."

The shadowscale's words were met with a mixed reaction. On the one hand Arnbjorn was grinning from ear to ear like he'd just been told he was getting a present earlier than expected and on the other Malatu wore an expression of barely veiled suspicion. But it wasn't aimed at the gleeful Nord waltzing off to select his weapons but rather at the Argonian that had suggested it. Neither said anything though, no protest to be heard from anyone else either as Babette and Gabriella filtered in from the study and even Cicero stopped his endless pacing of the chapel to see what was going on beyond the stained glass window.

They took their stances, Arnbjorn's steel shield was raised but the cudgel he'd decided on was loose in his hand as he stared forward in anticipation. It would be delicious to cut the figure before him down to size, after all it had always pissed him off to see a Dunmer taller than he… it just wasn't natural. And that wasn't even touching on how much the elf's attitude set his teeth grinding. Regardless of what he'd just been told about sword play Malatu was crouching ready to spring at the first opening, eyeing his opponent wondering how best to approach the mountain of muscle in front of him. A single pin dropping could have been heard in the roiling silence that sparked between them and then all at once it broke.

The elf's speed was blinding, barely a flash of black cloth and glinting ebony before Arnbjorn had to throw his shield up to block the tip of Malatu's blade as it came down grating on the wood before being clumsily withdrawn. And not a moment was wasted as Arnbjorn swung across with his other arm only to have his cudgel meet nothing but air. Again Malatu charged, and again the attack was rebuffed by Arnbjorn's raised shield. The Nord was after all not daft and certainly not blind, and while speed was not on his side in this fight there was more to fighting than lunging from the shadows. Once more the air was rent by the whirl of a blade clashing with wood and steel.

"Don't tell me that's all you got." Arnbjorn spat right after having landed a particularly cruel smack to the elf's spine as the two spun in place and the weight of Malatu's unfamiliar weapon put him off balance. The wolf was pleased to see the comment had wormed its way under his opponent's skin, working far better than any weapon to make Malatu's calculated mask of arrogance come undone. Watching the two was like seeing the arena combatants of Cyrodiil, each fully enjoying the destruction of the other until their entire reality shrank down to only how best to end the other. Arnbjorn's laughter rang through the sanctuary as his left boot slammed into the right side of Malatu's face, and just like that any lingering illusion of this being a simple sparring match shattered… Much like Malatu's restraint.

* * *

_Dance you fools, the flicker of black with the splash of red thin in tension sings to me. More! I demand entertainment further. A disc thrown, hands slipping in the dirt struggling for hold as talons and teeth break free from their bounds. Airborne rush! The feel of air and ebony slashing down, biting into wood. Splinter and fall away! The mongrel howls for the loss of his weapon. Taunt muscles strain and swing, a heel to trip and tangle legs like tree trunks. The beast falls, scramble and swear for always there is fear. None of the others will stop you, I can see it in their faces. That surprise too scrumptious and stalling to overcome. Let the Pretender see her sheep dog put down._

"Alright you two that's enough."

_It is not enough, someone needs to bleed! Surely a little blood isn't too much to ask..._

"Don't!"

_Don't stop you mean! shred and shatter, bring the beast to heel! Make him pay for his mockery with blood and broken teeth. The rattle of bones excites! So much death to call upon here, bring the dead from their graves to drag the living down!_

"Arnbjorn! Behind you!"

_Slow and stupid as ever! The hands of the void will drag you down bastard of Hircine, feel them trap and snatch at you._

"Astrid stop them!"

_ For the throat! But your sword is lost! Claw for his eyes then when blades fail you. Acrobat thrown, launched and winded by the wrathful wolf for ever the mutt has fangs. Seethe and strike! Rend and rampage, fury for fun as first blood flows forth. Anger a weakness as wrists twist and jab at side and back alike. Jump back devil in grey, play with your prey and work him over until at last the final assault! Bow to your audience! The pretender tugs the leash of her pummeled pet and your opening is laid bare and waiting._

"WHAT IN SITHIS' NAME DO YOU TWO THINK YOU ARE DOING? STOP THIS NOW!"

* * *

Malatu heard Astrid's cutting command and ignored it, bearing down on the kneeling Arnbjorn wearing a look of pure ecstasy with every intent to drive his bare hands into the Nord's heaving chest. But he never made it there… **_thwamp, splash, crack_** and his vision exploded with spots and lights inside his head. In the back of his gradually numbing mind he tried to piece together what had just happened, the images an incoherent swirl that fluttered in and out of order. He'd launched himself at Arnbjorn that much he knew, intent to rip his heart from his chest and hold it beating in his hand.

There had been a flash of brown wood and gold hair though, Astrid's lithe form appearing in his path with Arnbjorn's shield gripped in her hands. He had seen her and not cared, springing into the air in a swirl of robes and raw power with every intent to leap right over her. But she'd been expecting that and the shield had come up the moment his feet had left the ground. It had hit him dead on, with her weight behind it and his own momentum working against him he'd gone sailing far beyond his target and straight into the pond beyond. It had been the wall behind the waterfall that had finally brought this flight to a complete halt with spine jarring efficiency.

_'So that's why my clothes are wet.'_ It felt as if he had all the time in the world to marvel at this, to feel the water rushing over his head. Also his limbs suddenly felt heavy and he was pretty sure it wasn't just because of the cascade pressing down on him. To his left he heard someone entering the water before desperate hands began pulling him to his feet.

"Malatu your head's bleeding." The voice sounded distant but concerned despite being right next to him and his sluggish mind registered that it was Nazir who had pulled him to his feet and was now dragging him from the water.

"Is it really? Well that explains the spots." He said airily, sounding just as addled as one would expect from someone who had just been flung head first into a wall. He lifted his palm lazily to the back of his head before bringing it back around to his face. Sure enough it was covered in pale red liquid and without a thought Malatu ran his tongue over the gathered droplets. But it wasn't the copper taste of blood that greeted his tastebuds…

Malatu's emerald eyes went painfully wide as his mind snapped back into focus aided by a sudden chill of fear and realization. Without a word he pulled away from Nazir who was too startled by the expression on his fellow assassin's face to protest as the Dunmer all but fled from the main room and then into the night beyond the black door.

"What in oblivion was that about…" Nazir started to say, looking between the various expressions on the faces of the others for some answer that no one seemed to have. "Should we go after him?"

"No, let him cool off a bit. I think it would be best if we all had a moment to… collect ourselves." Astrid all but ordered even as she pulled her husband to his feet. From the way she stood and the fact that neither she nor Arnbjorn would meet each other's gaze Nazir didn't have the bravado to argue. The fact that two of their members had just tried to kill each other was far more telling than any words could be anyway. One by one those gathered filtered off, leaving only Gabriella and Cicero standing in the main room.

"Why so many long faces? Surely a good scrap is worthy of a smile or two. Or perhaps a laugh? Poor Cicero could use a good laugh these days." The jester chimed, to who it wasn't really clear.

"Things are changing keeper. And people do not handle change well." Gabriella didn't care if the funny little man had been talking to her or not, she needed to explain it to someone… to at least mention it… anything to change the future because the past could not be rewritten.

"Our sweet Lady is maiden, mother... and crone...Change is inevitable." He replied with a grin splitting his face ear to ear while he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "But sister… if you're going out you should bring back some flowers for mother… pretty pretty flowers."

The female said nothing, pulling her hood up over her head as thunder rolled above. 'Perhaps I should… yes I'll go pick some flowers for mother.' She thought grabbing one of the baskets from the study and heading out into the falling rain. 'Some red flowers for mother.'

Cicero merely grinned wider, if such a thing were possible. Now that he was alone he could see for himself what everyone else seemed to have missed right before Astrid had stepped in and blocked the Dunmer's final blow. The muddied spot where Arnbjorn had been kneeling dazed and paralyzed was disturbed. Not just by the fight but by several sets of skeletal hands whose fingertips curled just along the surface of the ground at the edge of the pond.

"So brother can make the dead dance. Cicero has to wonder… what else can the grey devil do?"

* * *

She walked aimlessly for an hour before she caught sight of him, a glimmer of movement among an outcropping of rocks slick with moss and the torrents of rain falling from above. It made her pause, reconsider… there was a basket full of night shade and red mountain flowers in her hands so she had an excuse but that wasn't her purpose out here was it? Not the real reason she'd followed him despite Astrid saying they shouldn't. but she couldn't say why she was really there just yet, that knowledge swimming in her head every time he came into view could not be imparted as things stood now.

Gabriella made no attempt to mask her approach though the rain and peals of thunder did so to a degree anyway.

"I doubt the others would think anything of it you know." She said taking a seat next to him among the rocks. "I don't think any would question it beyond the off handed comment."

"What are you talking about?" Lazily Malatu's eyes flicked to her beneath the swell of his hood, not surprised that someone had followed him though still mildly annoyed by it all the same. His head throbbed as if someone had mistaken the inside of it for an anvil but at least that was the worst of it. Headache or no he would survive just like always.

"If they knew red was not your natural color."

Her words were so far from the realm of the expected that Malatu didn't even block her hand as it came up and tugged his hood back as if to reaffirm what she already knew to be true. His jaw fell open, closed and then opened again unable to form words because too many were swimming in his dazed and half numbed mind. He sat simply staring at her unreadable expression waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen. The minutes stretched by one right after the other but neither moved as the rain fell and soaked through their clothes. A stray droplet slithered between the collar of Malatu's robe and his bare skin, and the resulting shiver brought the silence to an end.

"How long have you known?" he finally breathed, too exhausted to be angry at her for the theft of his secret.

"Less than a day," came the shaky reply as Gabriella watched the water finish washing the dye from his hair. She'd known what to expect and yet she still felt confused by the sight of it. Why was he hiding? Did he not trust any of them even a little? "And your eyes… green is a rather odd color for a Dunmer."

"Don't, I know what you want to ask… you will be disappointed if you continue down this path Gabriella."

"Perhaps, but disappointment is often the destination when traveling with someone who is more façade than mer."

"I am in no mood to be pushed –sister-." He was snarling at her but she didn't honestly care at this point.

"Tell me, what is it like to love a god? To put none else before her…" She sounded bitter but didn't know why. "Tell me who are you really?"

Malatu's response, defensive and accusatory as it was, was lost amid another clap of thunder and the sound of a bellowing roar that shook the very rocks they were perched on. In the distance the sky erupted in fire and a flurry of wings and it seemed as if their conversation would have to wait as winds whipped from those wings, knocking both to the ground with sheer force alone. There were shouts from further away, a cluster of riders in red and leather bearing down on the dragon above with all the blind courage of soldiers rallied to a frenzy. But Malatu paid them no mind as his hand clasped over Gabriella's wrist and pulled her with him into what he hoped was adequate cover.

_'Gods be damned it is one fucking thing after another today isn't it?_' He mentally growled as he and his fellow assassin huddled behind yet another standing of rocks. At least these ones were larger and more sheltering than the ones they'd been sitting on seconds before. And with luck the dragon hadn't noticed them at all, or at least would see the legionnaires charging it as more worthy of its attention. Because he really really did not want to face the beast if he didn't have to, the tussle with Arnbjorn had been more than enough of a beating for one day.

The riders thundered over the ground past where the two assassin's hid, some leaping from their horses and charging their foe as it landed and set about trying to fry everything in sight. At the forefront of this charge was a heavily armored female whose heavy claymore was carved from dragon bones and crafted by the very person who swung it now slicing into the dragon's thick hide. The beast shrieked in fury, whirling on this impudent mortal with the fury of a god spited. It swept back the others striking at it with its tail, soldiers and swords alike flying through the air and then back into the ground as it separated the female who had landed the first blow from the rest of her squad.

She didn't notice, a fire burning in her chest as she bellowed right back into the dragon's face, her words twisting from sound to force that pushed the beast back and opened it up for another lash of her blade. From their place behind the rock it was difficult to distinguish where the dragon's shouts ended and this woman's began, though it didn't matter much as the battle was over much quicker than expected. Knowing that to stay would mean a permanent end to its very existence the dragon took to skies on ripped and bloodied wings, fleeing from the joor with the immortal soul and disappearing into the distance to nurse its wounds and injured pride.

"Tribune Admia are you hurt badly?" One of the less damaged soldiers was saying, laying a hand on the back of the doubled over woman as she coughed blood into the mud. She vehemently shook his hand away before running the back of her own hand over her mouth and straightening again.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me just see to the others." Around her her squad slowly pulled themselves together again, and she was glad to see that for once there were no casualties, just a few broken bones and sprained joints. They hadn't expected a dragon to disrupt their patrol, but then again Skyrim was if anything a land full of the unexpected. As she surveyed the rest of the landscape she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, twin shadows slinking among the rocks away from where the battle had just taken place and in the direction of Falkreath.

Her first thought was possible stormcloak spies but as she watched them slip from sight she reconsidered the assumption, considering soldiers weren't often wont to carry flower baskets around with them. After all there were often hunters and the like wandering the landscape that had nothing to do with the war gripping every corner of the country. However she wasn't given any more time to wonder about them as someone brought her the reins to her horse and the squad began to haul their injured back to their camp. After all which was more important? Chasing shadows or guarding the rear in case the dragon returned? In truth it wasn't even a question she considered.

* * *

Gabriella and Malatu didn't stop running until they hit the road again. Both completely out of breath which was likely a good thing as it meant their previous conversation was left unfinished for now.

_'That was a tad too close…'_ Malatu mentally chided himself as he tried in vain to slow his racing pulse. _'Though it would be just like her to show up at both the most inopportune and yet contradicting-ly best time.'_

"Was that who I think it was?" Gabriella huffed, though not nearly in as bad of shape as her companion.

"The Dragonborn? Yeah… Though I didn't know she was a part of the legion…"

"Well now I know why Ra'enji never came back..."

"Who is Ra'enji?"

"He was a dark brother once, left one day on a contract to kill the Dragonborn… but he never came back. I'd somewhat assumed he'd deserted, after all no one wanted that job when Astrid tried to give it out."

"I see, speaking of Astrid. Are you going to tell her?" Malatu's question made her look at him long and hard for a moment before shaking her head. No, she'd already told their leader all that she needed to know, the rest was in fate's hands and none of her business. "Alright, well I'm not going back there like this… " He said gesturing to his now white hair, "so I will see you again in a few days. And Gabriella?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

They parted ways without another word, Gabriella heading back to the sanctuary to get out of the rain and Malatu to the Pale to fix his damaged disguise and tend to a little lark he had in a cage where only blackness could reach her.


End file.
